Courting Miss Granger
by Marmalade Fever
Summary: According to the Malfoy Marriage Contract, Draco Malfoy has one year to wed or else suffer the consequences, and guess who the only candidate left is... DMHG, COMPLETE Pre-HBP
1. The Malfoy Marriage Contract

Courting Miss Granger

Chapter 1: The Malfoy Marriage Contract

By Marmalade Fever

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related insignia.

_It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. --Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice_

Hermione Granger had been eating lunch at home, minding her own business. Salad again... her mother had sent her four heads of lettuce, and she didn't want it to go to waste. She had another twenty minutes before she had to go back to work at Flourish and Blotts. She was manager now. It hadn't taken her very long to work her way up the ladder. They loved her there. It was ten times better than the ministry job she'd had a couple years ago. She could read as many books as she pleased and get paid for it. She especially enjoyed helping the Hogwarts students find their new books.

Hermione was twenty-five now, unmarried, and hadn't dated for over a year. Her best friends Ron and Harry were both married and living elsewhere. She missed them.

She had just speared a carrot on the end of her fork when an owl came through her kitchen window, dropped a letter flat on her plate, and flew off again. She picked it up, dusted her salad dressing off, and looked at the address. Miss Hermione Granger, it read. The handwriting was exquisite and the ink was pearly and green. She opened it and pulled out a very nice looking sheet of paper. Down at the bottom was the most unlikely name that she would have ever expected, Draco Malfoy! Intrigued, she read:

Dear Miss Granger,

I would be most appreciative if you would meet me at seven o'clock tonight at Basil Garden. Please do not be alarmed. I have a very important matter to discuss with you. Thank you very much. I look forward to seeing you again.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

Basil Garden was a very nice restaurant that Hermione had only been to once for tea with her mother on her birthday. The last time she had seen or heard of Malfoy had been nearly seven years ago when they had left Hogwarts. What in the world would he want to discuss with her? But then, he had sounded very sincere in the letter. It would be rude to not show up. She made up her mind to go, but to bring her wand in case things got ugly.

At seven o'clock, Hermione walked through the door of Basil Garden and an aproned man directed her to a table in the far corner of the room. Looking highly nervous was Draco Malfoy, who had just taken a swig from his water glass. For a moment she just stood there, surveying him critically.

"Er, please, sit down," Malfoy said at last, gesturing to the seat opposite him. His hair was as blond as ever and the only notable difference in his appearance apart from age was the sad and nervous expression in his eyes. Indeed, she had never seen him like this before. He even looked... scared. What on earth could he have asked her here for?

"What's this about?" Hermione asked, settling her napkin carefully in her lap. Malfoy didn't look up at first.

"Well," he said at last, "I've just had my birthday." Hermione raised her eyebrow appraisingly. "That is, I turned twenty-five yesterday. My father called me into his study to talk to me. I expected him to give me a present or something... That wasn't it, though."

"Okay..." Hermione said. She was following him thus far but couldn't guess where this was headed.

"He had me sit down and opened up his drawer and pulled out some parchment. He, er, read it to me... I didn't really understand at first. I had to read it a few times over to really get the seriousness through my head." Malfoy reached into his pocket and pulled out some very old papers. Hermione took them and glanced them over for a second.

"These papers are six-hundred-years-old!" she gasped, looking at a date.

"And written in Middle English," Malfoy said, nodding. "My father explained it to me. It seems that if a Malfoy isn't married by their twenty-fifth birthday, they have one year to do so." Malfoy looked uneasily at a bread-stick. Hermione could feel a slight dizzying in her head... but surely... no, that couldn't be it... "If I don't get married by my twenty-sixth birthday I'll become ineligible to receive my family fortune... worse, I'll be cursed."

Hermione let out a low whistle. Being cursed was not a thing to be taken lightly. Most cursed people died within a few days from odd incidents such as falling pianos landing on their heads. It was kind of like the whole broken mirror thing, only permanent.

"Then my father explained to me that the contract is very specific about who I can and can't get married to. For one thing, she has to be from this country. At the time that the contract was being written the family had a lot of foreign enemies. Second, she has to be a witch. No muggles... not that that would ever happen," he added more to himself than to her. "Last, she has to be unwed, of course. Oh, and she also has to be my age." Hermione was still confused. She fit all four categories, but there were bound to be scores of other girls that did, right? Malfoy was looking even more uncomfortable than ever and there was real fear behind his eyes. "My father looked really grave about those rules," Malfoy said. "He said he'd tried to prompt me to settling down years ago, but I just wouldn't listen. I didn't know a thing about the Malfoy Marriage Contract until yesterday."

"So what does this have to do with me?" Hermione asked, feeling a little fearful herself.

"Well," Malfoy said, averting his eyes. "My father pulled out a list of girls who fit the criteria. There weren't many... He started crossing name after name off. Apparently they'd all gotten married... all except you." He looked up at last, and if she weren't mistaken, he looked as if he were about to be ill. "Grang-Hermione," he said, "it seems that you are the only girl in the entire world that I can marry. In other words, you're my only hope."

"They're all married?" Hermione gasped.

"Every last one," Malfoy said, nonchalantly. "Everyone from our year and the ones directly above and below."

"And you're allowed to marry a muggleborn?" Hermione gasped.

"In those days the idea was so ludicrous that they didn't even bother putting it in."

"So what are you trying to say?" Hermione asked.

"I'm trying to say that if I don't marry you by the end of the year, I'm done for," Malfoy said. Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Had Draco Malfoy just proposed to her? She shivered.

"What's in it for me?" She could hardly believe that the words had left her mouth.

"Well... Money, for one thing," with a glance from her he quickly changed his strategy, "but overall knowing that you did the right thing. You wouldn't just let me suffer, would you? That's an awful lot of guilt to put on your head." He had struck a chord and he knew it. "Look, I'll make you a deal. We'll go out for eleven months, and if you truly decide that you hate me, then you can leave me, and I'll die knowing that I at least tried. If you decide otherwise," a look of panic came into his face, as if he knew how farfetched that was, "we'll marry."

They didn't say anything for about ten minutes. A waiter kept glancing over at their table, wondering if he dared offer them a list of the specials. "Eleven months, huh?" Hermione asked.

Malfoy looked chipper. "Eleven months, that's all I ask."

"Well, I'm thankful you didn't just kidnap me and force me into it," Hermione said, sincerely. "Or, possibly worse, try to make me fall in love with you and not tell me that you had no other choice." It looked for a second as if he hadn't even thought of either of these suggestions and was about to kick himself, but his face went back to being neutral. "So... I guess eleven months is the least I could do. No guarantees though."

Malfoy let out a huge sigh. "Good, good..." The waiter came over and they ordered. This would be one interesting year.

End Notes:

April 2008: I am slowly trying to edit this for grammar and some content. Please note that because this was written several years ago, it no longer reflects the writing style of the author. Please also note the extremely short chapter lengths were due to my trying to write whole chapters in single sittings once a week.

In the original version, the MMC (Malfoy Marriage Contract) was 400-years-old and written in Old English, but now that I'm actually enrolled in an Early British Literature course, I'm trying to put more sense into it.


	2. Marry the Mudblood?

Courting Miss Granger, Chapter 2: Marry the Mudblood?

By Marmalade Fever

(The day before.)

Draco Malfoy woke up early. It was his birthday today. He dressed and apparated over to his parents' house. His father had requested his presence there. No doubt, his father wanted to give him a birthday present of some sort. He was getting a little old for racing brooms, but who knew?

"Good morning, Mother," Draco said, as he appeared in front of a blonde woman with her nose in the air.

"Oh, Draco, darling!" his mother cooed. "Your father wants you in his study. Pay close attention to what he tells you dear," she added, looking somewhat apprehensive.

"Okay..." Draco said, rolling his eyes as soon as his mother had turned away. She had always been overprotective of him. Honestly, what could be so important about a gift? Down the hall, up two flights of stairs, and on his left was the door to his father's study. Draco knocked, knowing how temperamental his father could be about that rule. He had once walked in on him while he was having a very heated argument with a fellow death-eater and had received a bad blow from a misdirected curse. He had also had his sweets privileges taken away, like a commoner!

"Come in!" his father's voice boomed. Draco did as he was told. His father was sitting behind his desk and, to Draco's disappointment, there was no sign of tissue paper. Instead, on the desk sat a very old set of documents. "Sit down, son," his father commanded.

"Where's my present?" Draco couldn't help but say.

His father scowled. "We're throwing you a party on Friday. You can have your present then."

"Alright," Draco said, shifting in his seat. He always got a present on his birthday, always.

"Listen son, there is something of utmost importance to discuss." He gestured to the documents on the table and began to read. Draco could hardly understand a word of it and had to read it several times over himself.

"What does it mean?" he asked, scratching his head, resulting in his greased hair flipping strangely.

"What it means," his father said, surveying him, "is that you have to get married, son."

"Married? How soon?"

"By a year from today."

"A YEAR? But, but, that can't be!" Draco cried, pulling the papers forward again.

"It can and it is going to happen. These rules were set down generations ago to ensure the continuance of the family name. If you don't marry an acceptable girl by the end of the year, you lose the family fortune."

"No money? Who else would get it?"

"Your cousin, Nymphadora Tonks," Mr. Malfoy said, looking livid.

"But she's from Mum's side! And a half-blood to boot!"

"I know, I know... I'd really rather not have to fork it over to her. The money's not the only reason I'd recommend that you take this seriously. Besides ending up poor, you'll also be cursed."

"Cursed?" Draco squeaked. "Fine, then. I'll marry. Who've we got?"

His father withdrew a sheet of paper from his desk drawer. "I made this list a while back. There are several qualifications to make the girl up to standard. She's got to be a witch, naturally. She's got to be from England. She's got to be no more than a year older or younger than you--"

"That's stupid."

"She's also supposed to be unmarried. This list is a little out-dated." The man sighed and took out a quill and carefully crossed off the name, "Hannah Abbott." "She's married." He then crossed off Milicent Bulstrode. "She's dead." Then he crossed off several more name until there was really only one left on the entire sheet.

"Who's that?" Draco asked, peering at the paper. His father was sheltering the name. "Pansy, maybe?"

"No... She's been married five years already. I never even put her on this list."

"Alright then, who?"

"You aren't going to like this and frankly, neither do I." He uncovered the paper and placed it in front of his son.

"The mudblood?" Draco spat. "How could that be?" he yelled.

"There isn't a single pureblood left. They're all married or dead or else frozen in a tundra..."

"Who...?"

"It's not important. What's important is that if you want to stay in the family, get your riches, and stay alive in the process, you better marry this Hermione Granger--"

"But she's a friend of Potter's!"

"That makes no difference. The Malfoy Marriage Contract doesn't care how well you get along... or even that this means the end of our line of purebloods..." His hands were gripping his desk so hard that it looked like he could have broken a chunk of it off.

"Marry the mudblood?" Draco said, leaning back and massaging his temples.

"I want you to have dinner with her tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!"

"I also want you to invite her to your party, Friday."

"How on earth am I to convince her to marry me?"

"You're a bright boy, you can figure it out. Besides, you have my charm, don't you? And good looks as well."

"I'm going to die!" Draco wailed, not taking his father's words in. "And I'm going to be poor!"

The door creaked. "Draco darling, would you like to come to the kitchen for some cake?" His mother's head was sticking through the door.

"Leave him alone, Narcissa." The head retreated through the door.

"I'm going to be poor and dead! I'm going to die a poor commoner unless I marry Granger!"

"That's the gist of it."

End Notes:

Again, sorry about the shortness of the chapters. I was updating weekly at the time, and I typically wrote each chapter in one sitting.


	3. Birthday Wishes

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 3- Birthday Wishes

By Marmalade Fever

They hadn't spoken for about half an hour. Both of them were still feeling very odd about the situation. If anyone had ever told them that they would be dating for eleven whole months, they'd have said they were insane. The possibility of marriage though, that was different. That was just plain shocking. They hated each other. They always had and had thought that they always would. What would their friends say? Hermione knew that if Harry or Ron heard about this, they'd say that she should simply let the git go to his doom. Still though, there was that vulnerability in his eyes that wouldn't let her do any such thing. He needed her. Like it or not, she had to at least try...

"Are you free Friday?" Malfoy said, breaking the silence at last. They had each just finished eating a piece of tiramisu, and the waiter had gone to get their bill.

"What time?"

"Eight o'clock. My parents are throwing me a birthday bash. My father said to, I mean, I wanted to invite you."

"It's okay to say that your father's forcing you to invite me. I wouldn't expect you to want me there so soon," Hermione said, head whirling at the very idea.

"So, can you come?"

"I suppose..."

"Good. It's at my house. I'll, er, pick you up if you want."

"No, no. I can apparate there just fine."

"Actually you can't. I don't know if you've ever read _Hogwarts: A History_, but you can't apparate onto the grounds. The Malfoy Manor is the same."

"Alright then, I'll be at my house. Need directions?"

Malfoy looked uneasy. "I know where you live."

"You do?"

"Er, yeah. I tagged my owl with a spell that allowed me to see exactly where he delivered that letter to."

"Huh... Okay, then. I'll see you Friday." She got up and was about to leave, but he stopped her.

"It'll be formal. I'd wear dress robes if I were you."

"Okay," she said sidling away.

"And, Granger? I mean, Hermione...?"

"Yes?" she said, cheeks flushing slightly at his effort to be civil.

"You don't have to bring a gift." It looked to her like this was not what he had originally meant to say. She shrugged it off.

"Bye... Draco..."

"Bye."

...

Friday seemed to come amazingly quickly. Hermione had gotten herself a pair of dress robes, though she thought the price a tad high, and taken the effort to use Sleakeasy's Hair Formula. Yesterday she had had an encounter with Mrs. Weasley and had a very odd conversation trying to explain why she couldn't come to dinner the next night. Luckily for her, she didn't run into Ron or Harry during the week.

At a quarter to eight she sat in her living room, feeling very nervous. What if this all turned out to be a nasty trick? She would be going to the Malfoy residence, after all. She didn't exactly get along well with any of them. She breathed slowly as the minutes ticked by. If he didn't come soon, they'd be late... How exactly were they to get there without apparating, anyway? Surely he didn't have a car? If it were floo powder, it certainly wouldn't have been necessary for him to come...

At 7:58 she heard a dull thud on her stoop. Knocking resounded through the flat and she sat up quickly to answer the door. Draco Malfoy stood outside next to a magic carpet.

"Hello... Miss Granger," Malfoy said, choosing his words carefully. He was wearing a pair of silver dress robes that matched his eyes, which seemed to flick up and down for a moment, as if he were looking at the effect of her dressing up. If he were impressed, he hid it amazingly well.

"Aren't flying carpets illegal?"

"Only if you get caught."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Okay, we better get going then..." To her disbelief, he grabbed hold of her hand and led her onto the carpet. They sat down lightly.

"Hold on," Malfoy said, and Hermione noticed that there were a pair of exceptionally long tassels hanging over the side for her to hold on to. Instantly, they rose up into the air and over the clouds. It was a beautiful night and the air whipped past them, making her squint. The city lights below flashed by and in less than a minute, they were landing again on a very, very large lawn. Hermione could hardly believe it. The Malfoy Manor was huge! It looked nearly twice as large as Hogwarts. There were turrets and flags everywhere. It was gorgeous. They walked nimbly over the lawn past hundreds of exotic plants. Hermione thought wistfully that Neville Longbottom would have a field day here.

Malfoy had not given her a second look but simply led her toward the very large, very expensive looking doors. A solemn looking house-elf was standing to the side of it. It looked a great deal like Dobby, and she was sure it must be related to him. S.P.E.W. flashed through her head for a moment, but that could be dealt with later... Dealt with later? Was she seriously thinking that this might last? She shivered.

They walked into the house and down several hallways before they began to hear the excited voices of people at a birthday party. Hermione felt her heart leap into her throat. Who all would be here?

"Come on," Malfoy said, gesturing to a door he was holding open for her. She walked through, feeling antsy. As she did so, the voices died abruptly.

"Granger? What's the MUDBLOOD doing here?" Hermione could have recognized the voice of Pansy Parkinson anywhere. It suddenly occurred to her that she must be married, if she were ineligible for marriage to Malfoy.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a voice carried across the room, though it was hardly louder than a hiss, "may I introduce to you my future daughter-in-law." Lucius Malfoy was holding a champagne flute, and Hermione could hear Draco groan from behind her. The rest of the room started whispering rapidly. Future daughter-in-law? She hadn't agreed to anything yet!

"Draco, DRACO!" Pansy Parkinson came speeding toward them, husband in tow. He was a skeletal looking man with very dark lashes against nearly yellow eyes. "What's this all about?"

"Malfoy Marriage Contract..." Draco muttered, though very quietly. His eyes flashed to Hermione, lest she should take offense.

"He has to marry me in order to stay rich and alive," she said, sighing. "I haven't agreed though... of course." The skeletal man was looking at her as if she were amazing. She unconsciously moved closer to Malfoy, though she didn't know why that should make her feel safer.

"Personally, I'd risk it!" Pansy said, fuming. She and her husband walked away, much to Hermione's relief.

"Come on, we'd better greet Father..." Malfoy said, grumbling about how embarrassing this whole thing was. They moved through the crowd and up to Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. Hermione had only seen Mrs. Malfoy once. This time she looked teary-eyed and was mumbling something about "how he's all grown up."

"So this is the elusive Miss Granger?" Lucius Malfoy said, very slowly. His eyes seemed to flicker over her as well, and again she unconsciously moved closer to Draco.

"We've met before," Hermione said, forcing her voice not to falter.

"I haven't forgotten..." he said, looking positively lethal. She felt very exposed for some reason. If anyone wanted revenge on her, this would be an excellent moment. "But as the situation has befallen us... it seems best to put such things aside." He paused, as if considering his words. "Though, I must warn you, Miss, that it would be in your interest to... cooperate."

"You're threatening me, aren't you?" Hermione blurted out.

"Why, yes, of course I am... Surely you would expect me to want to ensure my son and only heir's future?"

Hermione felt herself pale. How could she have ever thought that she'd have a choice in the matter? Draco gave her meaningful look. "And what if somebody else decides to do me in first?"

"Why, I'll take every possible measure to ensure your safety. Meaning, that if anyone here goes near you, he'll be dead before the spell hits... Now children, I think it would be best for you two to mingle. Look, there's Severus! Why not go over and say hello?" Sure enough, Snape was over in a corner, looking very bored. She felt Malfoy put his hand on her shoulder and lead her toward him.

"Good evening, Professor," Malfoy said. For the first time since they'd been reunited, Hermione could hear the old sleekness in his voice.

"Hello Mr. Malfoy... Miss Granger," he said, nodding to each of them. "So, what is all this about in-laws, I hear?" Malfoy explained it to him while Hermione looked down. There was no getting out of it now. She now felt how Malfoy must, that the choice was between marriage and sure death. She looked up at Snape as Malfoy finished his explanation. There was a gleam in his eye. "Well, well... That's a very interesting predicament. I assume that Lucius is taking all precautions to ensure this marriage?"

"Yes," Hermione said.

"Then I wish the two of you a long and happy marriage... I'm not sure which of you I feel more sorry for..."

_He feels sorry for me?_ Hermione couldn't help but think. After all, though, Snape wasn't completely evil. He would probably know what it felt like to be forced to interact with horrible people too. He had, after all, been in nearly the same predicament with the death-eaters. But then there was the sorry towards Malfoy as well... She really didn't know how to take the comment.

The sound of a spoon tapping against glass resounded throughout the room. "Time for presents!" Malfoy's face lit up and he steered her through the room and up to a table that was simply loaded with gifts. Harry had told her once about the presents that his cousin got every year, but this surely exceeded that number by eight times. Malfoy sat down, and gift after gift was handed to him. One of his servants continually used a vanishing charm to get rid of the paper. The whole process took no less than three hours, during which time, Hermione simply sat looking blankly on. When the mountain had finally come to an end an enormous birthday cake was brought over. The whole thing seemed ablaze by the candles. Malfoy listened cheerily to the singing and flashed his eyes over at her. The second seemed to last for an eternity before he closed his eyes and blew out the candles. At that moment, Hermione made her own birthday wish. That if she should end up marrying him, that it would at least be happy. Unbeknownst to her, Malfoy had wished the same.


	4. Visitors

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 4- Visitors

By Marmalade Fever

Hermione had a headache. Marry Draco Malfoy or die... Confronted with this choice she was afraid she'd have to choose marriage... even if he was a slimy git. He had been exceptionally nice to her since he had come to her about the dilemma. That, though, was probably only due to the fact that he didn't want to die either. She sighed and watched as the last few stragglers at the party began shifting over to the door.

"Miss Granger?" It was the voice of Lucius Malfoy. She turned and gave him a forced look of calm. "Before Draco escorts you home, I wish to stress my seriousness in this matter. Either you allow him to court you for the remaining eleven months and allow the marriage to take place or else I will not hesitate to use an unforgivable curse on you. Is that clear?"

"Dreadfully."

"Also, the family would like to spend more time with you."

"Meaning?"

"You'll be moving in on Sunday."

Hermione was outraged. "What do you mean I'm moving in?"

"Oh, don't worry. You'll be living with Narcissa and myself. Draco will visit often, of course. You'll be given full range of the grounds, but you won't be permitted to leave without Draco's accompaniment."

"But why, pray tell? What would the point be?"

"Isn't it obvious? We can't very well let you wander off and get killed. Nor can we permit you to escape. Yes, Miss Granger, you'll be best off here."

"But I've got a job, a family, friends..."

"You can still see them, so long as you're with your fiancé. Speaking of whom, here he is now." Malfoy appeared, seeming to have at last finished his inspection of his mountainous pile of gifts. He led her out onto the grounds again and back onto his flying carpet.

"Your father is an absolute troll," Hermione puffed as she sat down.

"And your father is--oh wait. We aren't playing that game, are we?" Malfoy's eyes sparkled strangely. "Okay, let's go." They took off and were back on Hermione's stoop again in no time. "See you Sunday, then... darling," Malfoy laughed as he made to get back on his carpet.

"You better behave yourself or I might take the route of death and leave you to wallow in pain under a giant anvil."

The smirk on Malfoy's face was replaced by a flash of horror. "Alright, alright... Hug good-night dear?"

Hermione gave him a pained look. "You're sick, you know that?"

"I'm pushing my limits, aren't I?"

"You think?"

"Fine. My lady," he picked up her hand and kissed it. "Good-night." With a smirk, he settled himself and took off.

...

Hermione happened to have Saturday off, and it was a good thing too. Staying up'til two in the morning seemed to damage her performance at work. She got out of bed around noon and found her way into the kitchen, at which point she screamed. Malfoy was sitting at her table looking at a health book.

"What're you doing here?" was all she could find to say.

"Apparated in. Thought we could grab a bite to eat."

"A bite to eat?" She suddenly became aware of the fact that she was wearing her pajamas.

"Yeah, thought we could use some alone time before you move in with my parents." He was staring at her pajamas. "Bright pink? I'd have never thought it was in you."

"Yeah, well, if we're getting married then I guess there's still a lot for you to learn."

"So we are getting married? That's good. I kept having nightmares last night about anvils falling on my head. So how about lunch?"

"Oh, fine! Just wait here while I change, and don't touch anything!"

"Wouldn't dream of it." And then, in an undertone, "Wouldn't want to anyway."

Hermione had just started to pull on her right sock when she heard the front door open. "Oh, good, maybe he's leaving," she muttered to herself.

"Hermione, where--? MALFOY? What're you doing here!" came the voice of none other than Harry Potter from her kitchen. Hermione grabbed her left sock and her shoes and ran into the kitchen, right sock only halfway on her foot. She clutched at a stitch in her side as she surveyed the scene. Harry and Malfoy were standing, wands out, and poised for attack.

"Stop!" Hermione yelled. The two men stayed in position, though they both turned their eyes on her. "Harry, it's all right!"

"Yeah, Potter, everything's koo koo kachoo," Malfoy said, twiddling his wand and sitting down.

"Excuse me?" Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Hermione, what's going on? Why's Malfoy in your kitchen, of all places?"

"Mind if I fill this one, dear?" Malfoy said, causing Hermione to wince. "You see Potter, we are, how do you say, engaged."

"He's out of his head!" Harry said, looking over at Hermione. "Herm, what's he talking about?"

"It's a long story..." Hermione said, pulling at her sock. "The gist of it is that if I don't marry him, we're both going to die."

"I'm sorry, but did you say 'marry?'" Harry asked, looking dumbstruck. Hermione didn't answer but simply looked down at her mismatched feet.

After a very pregnant pause, Malfoy chimed in, "Look Potter, neither of us want this but at the same time, neither of us want anvils falling on our heads."

"Anvils?" Harry mouthed, as the front door swung open. A young woman with long, dark hair walked in.

"Harry, what's going on?" She was about five months pregnant.

"Penelope!" Hermione gasped, coming over and giving Harry's wife a hug.

"Oh, hi Hermione! It's so good to see you... Who's this? New beau perhaps?"

Malfoy shifted in his seat. "In a manner of speaking," Hermione muttered. "Draco Malfoy, Penelope Potter."

"Nice to meet you," Penelope said, smiling. Apparently she didn't notice the tension in the room. "Draco? That's a very interesting name. Are you named after the Athenian law maker or a dragon?"

"Er, both," Malfoy muttered, giving her a scrutinizing look.

"That's very interesting. Very interesting indeed," Penelope said, still smiling. "Oh dear," she said, her smile dropping. "The baby's kicking again. Our little Amy is going to be a foot ball player, I know it!"

"Foot ball...? Wait a minute, is she--?"

"I'm a muggle, yes," Penelope said, not noticing the danger sign Harry was trying to give her.

"Er," Harry said, "Pen, I think it would be best if we came back some other day."

"Hmm? Why?"

"We were about to go out to lunch," Hermione said, very quickly. "Harry, I'll send you a letter later and explain, okay?"

"Alright," Harry said, moving over to his wife and giving Malfoy the evil eye. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Yes, yes, now go," Hermione pleaded. Malfoy was still staring at Penelope. "See you, bye!" she said, as the door closed behind Harry and Penelope. She then rounded on Malfoy. "Say whatever it is you're going to say and be done with it."

"What? I wasn't going to say anything."

"Don't give me that codswallop."

"Grange-Hermione, really. Let's just go, okay?" He had gotten to his feet.

"Don't lie to me!" Hermione rounded.

"What, you want me to insult Potter's wife? Look, I just want us to get along, 'kay?"

"Fine then, let's go!" She sat down, pulled on her other sock, and did up her laces. Five minutes later they were standing outside of a burger stand.

"It's not going to kill you to talk to me, you know," Malfoy said, as they sat down with their burgers.

"Yes, but it'll kill me to not marry you, won't it?" A couple nearby exchanged a confused glance.

"Tell you what. Let's pretend like you aren't being threatened, okay? We were doing so much better when we were at dinner the other night."

"What do you care? This way you don't have to win me over."

Malfoy sighed. "What can I say, I guess I've always just pictured being married to someone who could actually stand the sight of me." Hermione snorted. "Why's that funny?"

"I'm trying to imagine anyone being able to stand the sight of you!"

Malfoy leaned back. "Why do I even bother?" he muttered.

"Frankly, I haven't a clue!"

"Look, tell you what. How about if I get my father to consider letting you stay at your house. Would that make you a bit more flexible?"

Hermione looked up, frowning. "I suppose, but what's in it for you?"

"Let's just say I'm a hopeless romantic," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes.

"What? Were you being serious about the whole winning me over thing?"

"It would just be a lot easier to get along if you didn't feel like you were being forced."

"I am being forced!"

"...And so am I."

Hermione's face faltered as she looked into his mournful gray eyes. She paused, mouth half-open. "Oh."


	5. Burgers, Hair Gel, and a Dress

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 5- Burgers, Hair-Gel, and a Dress

By Marmalade Fever

Draco carefully averted his eyes. A thought had just come to him. Perhaps this would work out after all. He had never thought of her as ugly, except perhaps for her hair... and her teeth. The latter were different than they once had been. It seemed to him that they had been longer when they were young. Now they were perfectly proportioned. They were downright nice now.

"So," he said, after a while. "Where's the cutlery, anyway?"

Granger started laughing again. What could be so funny about asking where the silverware was? "It's a hamburger. You eat them with your hands." Draco had heard about such things. Really though, this seemed downright barbarous. Eat with his hands? Ha! The idea was laughable. He watched as she unwrapped her burger and picked it up and took a large bite out of the side. He wrinkled his nose. She sighed. "I'm sure if you ask the man behind that counter he'll give you a knife and fork."

"I think I will." He returned a moment later holding a plastic knife and a plastic fork. They were absolutely useless. The knife didn't cut and the food wouldn't stay on the fork.

"Just try using your hands. It's not that bad!" Granger said, clearly amused by his troubles. She continued to eat her own burger as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He wouldn't give up though. He might be consenting to marry a mudblood, but he wasn't going to stoop down that low.

...

Hermione watched as Malfoy slowly ate his burger. He didn't finish until well after she did. He could be so stubborn. In a way it was actually a little cute. He hadn't touched his fries yet. If he was going to eat them with a fork, she didn't think she would ever stop laughing.

"So," she said, as she watched him, "I'd really appreciate it if you would ask your father about that. No offense, but I really don't want to live with your parents."

"That's understandable. Yeah, I think I can talk him out of it. I mean, so long as you don't move to Antarctica or something..."

Hermione smirked. "I don't think the penguins would be too happy if I did that."

"Yeah, and we'd track you down anyway," Malfoy said, almost incoherently. Hermione frowned and Malfoy quickly changed the subject. "You know, it's funny, but I've always wanted to gel your hair."

"What?" Hemione said, completely confused.

"Your hair, I've always wanted to try gelling it."

"That's got to be the strangest thing someone's said to me lately," Hermione said, looking flabbergasted.

"Stranger than my asking you to marry me?"

"I dunno, close call really." She grinned. "Can I touch your hair?"

"Er," Malfoy said, frowning slightly. "Go ahead." Hermione reached over and patted his head. His hair felt almost exactly like a helmet. "That's enough, I don't want you to mess it up." Hermione leaned back again. Her fingers were ever-so-slightly sticky now.

"Tell you what, if you can convince your father to let me stay at my house, you can gel my hair." Hermione ran this sentence through her head. Somehow it sounded like a very strange thing to tell Draco Malfoy.

"Deal," Malfoy said, smirking. "We can go ask him right now, if you want."

"The sooner the better really. He did want me moved in by tomorrow."

Malfoy stood up, his fries still uneaten. They walked to a secluded alleyway behind the restaurant. "We can apparate to my house and walk from there," he said, and they did. A moment later they were standing in his living room. It was actually a rather nice house. The furniture was exquisite and there wasn't quite so much dark arts memorabilia as she would have thought. He led her through a door and into a library. Then they went through a study and from there into a large hall. One last door led them outside. "It's a twenty minute walk to the edge of their property. My carpet's being cleaned. I could get out a couple of firebolts if you want, though."

Hermione, a little frightened at the idea, said that she'd rather walk. The trees along the road were gorgeous. Malfoy, however, seemed unimpressed by the scenery. They walked along in silence for a while. Hermione noticed several places that looked ideal for reading... She guessed that she probably would end up spending a lot of the rest of her life outside and reading. It would be a good way to get away from her future in-laws. She glanced over at Malfoy. He was staring straight ahead. He seemed so quiet now. He was much more bearable this way. They reached the edge of the Malfoy Manor's property and made their way along the extensive lawn toward the enormous front doors. The same house-elf she had seen the night before greeted them.

"Announce our arrival," Malfoy said bluntly to the elf.

"Yes, please announce our arrival. Thank you," Hermione couldn't help saying. Malfoy didn't comment. The elf returned a minute later and led them to an office several floors up.

"Sir's son and the bushy-head girl for you," the elf said and backed out of the room with his head bowed.

Lucius Malfoy, hair swaying gently, lifted his head. "What is it, Draco?"

Hermione suddenly felt weak in the knees. Could Malfoy actually convince his father? She wasn't so sure now.

"Father," Malfoy said, sounding firm, "I don't think it's necessary for Miss Granger to live here. Under the circumstances, I think it would be better to allow things to happen... naturally."

"I see," Malfoy senior said, picking up a quill and balancing it on his finger. "And this is your idea, Draco?"

"Yes, sir, it is."

"Miss Granger, would you please step out for a moment?"

Hermione, feeling very nervous all of a sudden, left the room. Outside the door, she found the same house-elf waiting patiently. He was wearing a dish-cloth around his middle. "Would Miss like to visit with Madame Malfoy?" he asked.

"Okay," Hermione said, giving the door a glance and following the house-elf. She didn't hear any yelling. She hoped that meant things were going well. They didn't go very far. Mrs. Malfoy was perched on a couch in a sitting room.

"Aw, Miss Granger," she said, standing. "Come here dear, let me get a good look at you." She stood and examined Hermione, holding her fingertips as she did so. "You know, I think it just might fit."

"What might?" Hermione asked, intrigued.

"Oh, my wedding dress. If you don't mind, I'd like you to wear it." Narcissa Malfoy didn't seem nearly as snobby alone than she did when she was with her husband. Her nose was still lifted slightly, though.

"Well," Hermione said slowly, "my own mother might want me to wear hers..." This was a bit of a lie. She knew perfectly well that her mother's dress had a large stain on the front from a mishap with some wedding cake. She didn't especially want to agree to anything until she'd seen this dress.

Mrs. Malfoy laughed. It was a very shrill, almost fake sort of laugh. "My dear, isn't your mother a muggle? I think it would be much more... appropriate for you to wear my dress."

Hermione felt her face redden, but didn't say anything. Instead she allowed Mrs. Malfoy to lead her up to her closet and show her the dress. Hermione didn't want to admit it, but she fell in love with that dress the moment she laid eyes on it. It was ivory with slender sleeves that opened at the palm and pointed down over her fingertips. It was perfectly smooth except for some rosettes that lined the waist. Besides that, it fitted perfectly. Some vain part of her admitted that she'd be willing to marry Malfoy just to be able to wear this dress.

Some time later the house-elf told her that "young Master Malfoy is waiting in the lobby." They walked back to his house and on the way he informed her that she wasn't going to be moving into his parents' house after all. He didn't want to say more, though.

"How about we schedule the hair-gelling for tomorrow?" he said, as they reached his house.

"Alright, I'll see you then," Hermione said, not wanting to upset him. She couldn't imagine that his conversation with his father had gone well.


	6. Sunday

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 6- Sunday

By Marmalade Fever

When Hermione walked into her kitchen that morning and found Malfoy sitting at her table once more, she managed to resist the urge to scream and only jumped about 3 inches or so off the ground. "You've got to stop doing that!"

"Oh, good morning, Sunshine," Malfoy said, checking his watch. "You're up a bit earlier this time."

"Didn't we agree that I'd come to your house, not vice versa?" Hermione asked, sidling over to the refrigerator and pouring herself a glass of juice.

"Well, there wasn't much going on over there, so I figured I'd find out what color pajamas you're wearing today. Blue huh?"

Hermione mumbled something under her breath. "They change color every week," she added aloud, with a bit of a groan. "So, now you know what my P.J.'s look like, you mind going home?"

Malfoy put on a face of mock hurt. "You know, I don't think I want to marry you. You're mean."

"Well, that makes two of us..."

This caused Malfoy to grin. "You want some breakfast?"

Hermione snorted. "Excuse me? I'm not letting you anywhere near my stove. You're liable to burn the house down."

Malfoy put on the same look of mock hurt. "Actually, Miss Know-it-all, I brought this." He reached down and lifted a picnic basket up off the floor.

"YOU made me breakfast?" Hermione asked, eyes the size of galleons.

"Well, no, my house-elf did. It's the thought that counts though, right?"

"You really amaze me sometimes..."

"So you do want some, eh?" Malfoy asked, eyes sparkling. He opened the basket and lifted out half a dozen scones, Devonshire cream, lemon curd, kippers, toast, and a stack of waffles.

Hermione's mouth started watering. "When you try and impress a girl, you really go all out, don't you?"

Malfoy shrugged as Hermione got out plates and utensils. Two scones, a waffle, and three kippers later, she was stuffed. "If I'm going to live with you, I'm going to have to start exercising or something." She glanced over at the wall. It was a quarter to noon. "I'm visiting my parents at half past twelve. I'll come over for the hair thing after that."

"You know, I'd kind of like to meet your parents. Have you told them about me yet?"

A look of horror came onto Hermione's face. "I don't think that's such a good idea, and no... I haven't told them yet."

"Oh, come on. I won't turn yer mum into a toad, promise."

"Malfoy..."

"I'll be a perfect gentleman. You don't even have to mention the whole marriage and death thing if you don't want to." He batted his eyelids. "Please?"

"Oh... fine! But remember, they're muggles. If you misbehave around them I might just drop that anvil on your head myself, got it?"

"No problem."

"And now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go take a shower. I want you to wait outside, capeesh?"

"Whatever you say, Dearest..." Malfoy said, snickering. Hermione went to take her shower and Malfoy went outside and waited on the front steps. He'd been out there a couple of minutes when he spotted an owl swooping down. It looked as if it were planning to fly through the open window. Malfoy caught its attention and, with a struggle, managed to get the bird to surrender the letter to him. The bird pecked him a few times before flying off. "Dear Hermione, blah blah blah... Love Harry? Hmm... Better read this... Or should I?" Draco debated the dilemma with himself for a moment. Granger was in the shower and probably would be for another ten to twenty minutes. How would she ever know? He began to read:

Dear Hermione,

What in the world is going on? What do you mean you have to marry Malfoy? I mean, it's Malfoy! We hate him, or don't you remember? If that stupid, bloody git is threatening you, just say the word and I'll knock his lights out! Why would he want to marry you, anyway? No offense, but you aren't exactly his type. Wait a minute... you aren't a pureblood, are you? Nah... And what was that about you both being in danger of death?

Draco stopped reading. The letter went on for another foot of parchment. It was really rather boring to him. He might as well just leave it on the table for Granger to read later. Near the bottom though, he caught the name "Penelope."

...I can't believe we let him anywhere near Penelope. A muggle married to me and pregnant should, under no circumstances, be let near that horrid beast you call a fiancé. I really think you should get help, Hermione. Go to Dumbledore or something. He'd probably let you stay at the school and you'd be perfectly safe there. Anyway, Pen sends her love. See you later.

Love,

Harry

Draco whipped out his wand and changed the sentences about going to Dumbledore. It wouldn't do to let Granger get any smart ideas. He then carefully slipped back inside and put the letter on the table.

When Granger was ready, they apparated onto her parents' front lawn. She marched up to the front door and didn't even bother to knock.

"Mom, Dad!" she called.

"In here!" Mr. Granger called from the living room. "Oh, you brought someone?" he asked, as they entered. The man was sitting on the couch with a newspaper.

"Er," Granger said, "Dad, this is Draco Malfoy."

"Very nice to meet you," Mr. Granger said, standing up and offering his hand. Draco shook it, though a little apprehensively. "Mom's in the kitchen Hermione, why don't you go and say hello?" Granger left and Draco found himself alone with her father. He had a slightly receding hairline and wore a pair of glasses. "So," the man said, looking at Draco appraisingly, "how do you know Hermione?"

"We went to school together," Draco said.

"Oh, a Hogwarts man, eh? I doubt you've ever even heard of the school I went to."

"Er, probably not..." This was much more uncomfortable than he'd have thought. Why did he bug Granger to let him come, anyway?

"So, are you two friends, or...?" Mr. Granger asked, cleaning his glasses.

"Well," Draco wasn't sure how to answer this question. They weren't exactly friends. They weren't exactly enemies. They barely even liked eachother. He couldn't possibly answer by saying they were engaged. "We're, er, dating..." This seemed the closest thing to the truth he could think of.

"I figured as much. Granted, she was friends with those two other boys and that was the extent of it. I always did think it was odd for a young girl to be best friends with two boys and have absolutely nothing come of it."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." He'd always figured that she'd end up with either Weasley or Potter. Himself though, that he'd never have guessed.

"So, how long have you two been seeing each other?"

"Less than a week."

"And she's introducing you to us already? Golly, she must be really serious about you two. The last boyfriend she had, she didn't even tell us about him for eight months. Said she didn't think it would last and didn't bother."

"Oh?" This information startled Draco slightly. True, he had forced his invitation, but still... Granger and her mother entered the room. Draco stood accordingly.

"Mum, this is Draco Malfoy," Granger said, putting on what Malfoy knew to be a fake smile.

"Oh, dear, he's lovely!" Mrs. Granger whispered to her daughter, though Draco heard every word. He saw Granger's face blush. "Don't you think?" She gave only the slightest of nods.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Granger," Draco said, pretending to not have noticed.

"Oh, please. That makes me feel so old. Call me Margery."

"Okay... Margery," Draco said, slowly.

"And call me Ted," Mr. Granger said.

...

Two hours later they waved goodbye to the Grangers and apparated over to Draco's house.

"Your parents are not quite what I expected," Draco admitted as he led the way to the bathroom.

"And what exactly did you expect?" Granger asked.

"I'm not sure, really..." Truth be told, they hadn't been quite as stupid as he would have supposed that muggles would be. They just seemed like regular, run-of-the-mill parents who happened to not use magic. "Here we are. Sit down."

Granger sat and Draco squirted some gel onto his palm. "Some" was a bit of an understatement. Granger had a lot of hair, and therefore needed a lot of gel. He then grabbed a comb and began pasting her hair flat onto her head. "So what exactly did you want to do with my hair?" she asked as she watched the process in the mirror.

"Nothing in particular. My hair's so thin that it isn't much of a challenge. Yours though..."

"You're really rather weird, you know that?"

"Got a problem with it?"

"No. It's rather nice to see this side of your personality, actually." Draco gelled her hair back and rolled the rest of it into a bun on the back of her head.

"Well, you don't look like me, anyway," he said, washing the stuff off his hands.

"It's not bad," Granger admitted. "How long until it's hard as rock?"

"Not too long at all."

She touched her head, gingerly. "It's hard already!"

"Told ya," Draco said, helping her to her feet. He looked at her and was surprised to feel his stomach squirm. She was pretty, she really was. There was no more use denying it to himself. _She might be a mudblood, but at least she's my mudblood_, he found himself thinking.

"Well, I'm going to go home now," she said, still touching her hair.

"Alright..." he said, still watching her.

"Everything okay?"

"Hmm?"

"You're staring at me," Granger said, lifting an eyebrow.

"Just, just wondering how you'd look as a blonde, that's... that's all."

"Okay..." Hermione said, disbelievingly. "See you then."

"Yeah, see you." Draco felt like an idiot.


	7. Girls' Night

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 7- Girls' Night

By Marmalade Fever

Monday meant a return to work for Hermione. She woke at seven, ate, washed the gel from her hair, and left before Malfoy could arrive to see if she was wearing blue pajamas or not. It didn't take him very long to figure out where she'd gone. At one o'clock, he arrived in Flourish and Blotts just as she'd finished stocking a shipment of Magical Me.

"That bloke sure is full of himself, eh?" Malfoy asked, as Hermione jumped and knocked over a display of joke books.

"Who? Lockhart?" Hermione asked, tracking down a particularly dull-witted joke book that kept guffawing at her.

"Yeah, Father told me that he had his memory erased back in our second year and now he's living at Mungo's, handing out autographs to anyone who'll take one."

"I know..." Hermione said, remembering her encounter with her old professor in her fifth year.

"So, what time do you get off work?" Malfoy asked, examining a book of hexes.

"Five. I'm busy tonight, though. I've got plans with Ginny Thomas."

"Maybe I can come?" sounding somewhat apprehensive.

"Nope, sorry. Monday's are girls' nights out."

"Well," Malfoy looked thoughtful, "how about tomorrow night? We can call it our one week anniversary."

Hermione looked up from the card catalogue she had wandered over to. Malfoy had never exactly seemed the type to remember an anniversary. "Sure."

"Alright then, I'll pick you up here when you get off work tomorrow."

"Okay, it's a date," Hermione said, nodding.

"A date? Wow, imagine going on a date with your own fiancée! I feel so special..." Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Sarcasm," Hermione replied brusquely and winked.

"Alright, I'll see you then. Now, I'm just going to step over to Knockturn Alley and get you a gift. I'm thinking dung beetle earrings, what do you think?"

"You want another elbow in the ribs?" Hermione asked, eyebrow raised.

"There you go with your threats again... See you later, dear."

"Yeah, you too, Greasey..."

"That my new pet name?" Malfoy asked, considering it. "Not very flattering, but it's original. I like it." With that, he left.

...

Hermione met with Ginny directly after work and they went to the movies. Recently Ginny had gone on a sort of quest to find a match for her.

"How about him?" Ginny asked, pointing to a man a good five rows down.

"Are you kidding me? He was making out with that girl not but two minutes ago," Hermione said, not having felt up to explaining the Malfoy situation yet.

"Well," Ginny thought for a moment, "how about him?" She pointed to another man.

"He has gray hair!" Hermione whispered.

"No he... oh, yeah, you're right..."

"Anyway," Hermione whispered, summoning some courage, "I've actually, er, met someone."

"You're kidding me? Who? What's he like? Good looking?" Ginny muttered, all in one rush. Someone in a seat behind them groaned audibly.

"I'll tell you later," Hermione said, pretending to take more interest in the film than she really had. She wasn't sure how to broach the subject. The next hour and a half passed far too quickly, in her opinion.

...

"Well, tell me about him," Ginny said, as they walked into the lobby, and Hermione could no longer postpone the question.

"Well, the good news is you know him," Hermione said slowly.

"Oh no!" Ginny wailed. "It's not George, is it? I'm telling you that it'd never work. His divorce was just made final..."

"No, no, no! It's not George..."

"Who then?"

"Well," Hermione said, deliberating, "I guess I might as well just spit it out. It's Malfoy." She waited as her words sunk in. Ginny's face slowly went from anxious, to crestfallen, to... excited?

"Malfoy?" she said, almost laughing. "Draco Malfoy? How on earth did this happen?"

"Well... apparently in his family there's a sort of Marriage Contract. If he isn't married to someone who fits the specifications by next year, he's going to lose out on the fortune and end up cursed. You know what happens to cursed people, don't you?"

"Of course! That's just... that's horrible! Wait a second, did you say marriage?"

"Yep... I'm the only girl left that meets the specifications. Lucius is threatening to do me in if I back out."

Ginny looked at a loss. "So you're telling me that you're getting married to Draco Malfoy? Has he been civil at all?"

Hermione stopped. "As a matter of fact, he's been a near-perfect gentleman. At first it was just because he needed me to cooperate, but now... Now he just seems to want this to go as if we weren't at risk. It's almost like he wants us to fall in love..."

"And... is it working?" Ginny asked, not meeting Hermione's eyes.

"Maybe..."

Ginny clapped her hands together. "Well, what are you doing hanging out with me, then? When are you seeing him again?"

"Tomorrow." Hermione straightened. "He said it's our one week anniversary."

"That's fantastic! You know, differences aside, I think the two of you would really make an excellent couple. That is, as long as you don't kill one another."

"Hey, we're saving one another's necks. We can't afford to kill each other!"

"So... Have you talked about having children at all?" Ginny asked, all smiles now.

"Er, no..." Hermione felt a lead weight drop into her stomach. That was something to be dealt with in its own time. Still though, the thought of a cute little girl with his hair and her eyes sort of floated up into her mind. Any child of theirs was sure to be adorable. Fresh thoughts about the whole thing running through her head, she said goodnight to Ginny and went home, wondering what her "anniversary" would be like.


	8. Stupid Malfoy!

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 8- Stupid Malfoy!

By Marmalade Fever

Draco and Hermione stood together in front of an altar. She looked so pretty, he thought. His mother's dress suited her. It seemed strange to be getting married. It seemed like only yesterday when he had confronted her about the Malfoy Marriage Contract. He glanced over at her. She smiled warmly, exhibiting her perfect teeth. Something on her hand caught the light. It was... a wedding ring? Why would she be wearing a wedding ring? They hadn't reached that part of the ceremony yet. To their right stood a giant hour glass. There were scarcely any grains left in the upper cylinder. He watched, transfixed as they gently dropped.

"Hermione," he whispered, "what's that on your hand?"

"Oh," she answered, ignoring the minister before them, "I forgot to tell you. Some other man asked me if I'd marry him a couple weeks ago. He had a bit of a curse coming too."

"He what?" Draco asked, eyes the size of soft balls.

"It's no big deal; I'll marry you too."

"But Hermione, the, the contract! You can't marry me if you're already married!" What was she thinking? The grains of sand were falling through the hour glass faster and faster. There was only one grain left. It fell.

"I now pronounce you--"

Draco could hear wind whistling from above him. He pushed Hermione out of the way and quickly did a sort of roll to the side. Too late! A grand piano was now pinning his feet down. He reached for his wand, intent upon using a shield charm. He grabbed something from his pocket.

"Protegio!" Nothing happened. Draco looked down. There was a chopstick in his hand. A chopstick? Why on earth would he have a chopstick in his pocket!

"Bye, bye Draco! I've got another wedding at four. See you around!" Hermione walked off. He meant to call her back for help... except that there was an anvil whistling toward him. He took one last breath and prepared for the worst.

Draco woke up covered in sweat and breathing hard. This must have had something to do with what his father had been talking about the night before.

_"I'm concerned Draco, I really am," Lucius Malfoy said, staring disdainfully at his cup of tea. "She isn't going to just fall in love with you! You need to find some way to tie her down-manipulate her so that she has no choice!"_

_"I'd say that threatening her life is manipulation enough," Draco said, carefully._

_"We can't afford to take any chances! This is serious business! Why, when my father was your age, he--"_

_"What? Did he not get married until the contract came into effect as well?" Draco asked, suddenly rather more interested._

_"That's exactly what happened." Lucius looked left and right, before leaning in. "He started courting a girl he'd known for ages. He was sure that she'd agree to the marriage. You know what she did, Draco?"_

_"What?"_

_"She married someone else, that's what! Luckily, he was able to find another girl in time..."_

_"You mean Grandma?" Draco asked, spilling his tea. Never in his life had he heard anything of the type!_

_"Terrible marriage, but it was better than death!" Lucius looked around bitterly, not quite meeting the eye of a photo of his mother. "Listen to me, Draco. You can't afford to take chances, not when you've only got the one!"_

_"So, if this is such serious business, why'd you wait until my birthday to tell me about the contract?"_

_Lucius Malfoy gave his son a look that could have killed. "You don't think I wanted to? I urged you as best I could! According to the bloody contract, I wasn't allowed to say anything until your twenty-fifth birthday or else re-risk the curse, myself!"_

_"But why?" Draco asked, fighting his father's death-stare as well as he could._

_Lucius let go of a mighty sigh. "Because," he said, "somehow, deep down, our ancestors had hearts. They preferred that their children should have a chance to find love naturally before being told that they weren't making enough of an effort."_

_"And what about the criteria?" Draco asked._

_"The local bit is due to some archaic feuds going on back then. The same age part-well, I guess that was just to make sure that she'd be able to bear children. Any more questions?" his father asked, still looking livid. Draco didn't answer. "Good, now I'd try and figure out a way to keep her from doing something stupid, like running off to Dumbledore or Potter for protection."_

Draco left his bed, a plan slowly forming in his mind. It may not be the best plan, but at least it would be a way to stake his territory. He met with Hermione just as she was locking the door to Flourish and Blotts.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked as Malfoy led the way.

"Oh, just a little place I know..." He looked so... anxious. They walked a while down Diagon Alley, then up a side street and into a very, very expensive-looking restaurant.

"I don't know if I'm dressed properly," she said in an undertone. She had a very large ink-stain on the front of her robes. Malfoy didn't comment but announced their presence to the greeter in a loud tone. They were led to a table in the center of the room where it felt as if every eye in the restaurant would be able to see them. They ordered, but Malfoy barely seemed to be touching his food. At the table next to them, Hermione noticed that the Minister of Magic had just sat down. Malfoy waved at him, while she tried to hide herself from view behind a roll. Hermione did a double-take. The editor of Witch Weekly had sat down next to the Minister. It was at this moment that Malfoy decided to take action in whatever plan he'd had all night.

"Hermione Granger," Malfoy said, in a voice that carried throughout the room. Hermione felt her ears plug slightly from embarrassment. Was it her imagination, or was he getting down on one knee? No, he was definitely getting down on one knee! What was he doing? "Hermione, Darling," her face was reddening, she could feel it, "I've known you for years, now. I only wish I could have seen the light sooner." He was reaching into his pocket! Stupid Malfoy, stupid! "I've come to discover that I care for you more than life itself..." Yeah, right! "Hermione, my angel, will you marry me?" He removed a small box from his pocket and held it open to her. Inside was the most extravagant diamond ring she'd ever seen! All eyes in the restaurant were resting on her, giving her that creepy sixth-sense feeling. The editor from Witch Weekly was scribbling furiously and had a cameraman ready. Stupid Malfoy! What was he trying to do? She couldn't refuse, not when she very-well knew that she couldn't.

"Er," she said, in the tiniest voice she could render. "Yes...?" If Hermione had been embarrassed up until now, it was nothing compared to the horrendous applause filling the room and an eerie chant encouraging them to kiss... Malfoy was leaning in... his eyes were closed and his lips were puckered. It was taking the last of her will not to smash his head in with a dinner plate, and he was expecting her to kiss him? A compromise was in order; she reached out and patted his head.

"Come on, girl, kiss him!" came the voice of the Minister of Magic, holding a glass of wine. Hermione silently whimpered to herself before leaning in and giving her "fiancé" the fastest of pecks on the lips ever recorded in history. The restaurant was all applause. Malfoy was grinning sheepishly. He would pay for this! Stupid Malfoy! Argh!

End Notes:

This chapter will forever hold a special place in my heart.


	9. Most Eligible Bachelor, Taken!

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 9- Most Eligible Bachelor, Taken!

By Marmalade Fever

Hermione was fuming. How dare he do that to her? Stupid, STUPID Malfoy! Whatever happened to the whole, "fall in love" thing? It was Sunday again, and she hadn't seen him since. The situation did not improve whatsoever when her copy of Witch Weekly was delivered. The front cover had a large picture of Draco Malfoy, smiling as if he weren't a complete jerk. The headline was what really got her though. "Watch out ladies! W.W.'s most eligible bachelor, taken!" She flipped angrily to the page listed. There was a very large picture of the two of them at the restaurant table. Malfoy was holding the ring and puckering up. At least her photo-self was putting up a good fight, though. She kept dodging to the side and trying to get out of the picture. An article followed:

"Tuesday night found the editor of Witch Weekly, Gladys Smudge, at a table with Minister of Magic McSneed. The real excitement, however, was happening at the next table over. Here sat Draco Malfoy, boy millionaire, winner of Witch Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelor, and son of accused, but excused, Death-Eater Lucius Malfoy, as well as muggle-born Hermione Granger, a good friend and supporter of Harry Potter. Malfoy, a very handsome young wizard, proposed elegantly to Miss Granger, right then and there! Miss Granger has been quoted of replying, 'Yes.' After a very passionate kiss, Miss Granger left, presumably to tell her family and friends the good news. Witch Weekly was able to get an interview out of Mr. Malfoy. The wedding, though not fully set, will take place in April--"

April! That was only five months off! April indeed!

"-at the Malfoy Manor. Miss Granger-or should we say, the future Mrs. Malfoy-will be wearing the current Mrs. Malfoy's wedding dress. When asked how long the couple had been seeing each other, Draco's reply was, 'awhile.' The young couple is registered at the following locations..." Hermione skipped ahead. "All members of the Witch Weekly staff would like to wish the young couple the best!"

If Hermione had had steam billowing from her ears before, it was nothing compared to now. Any second the fan mail and hate mail alike would be coming in hordes. Not for the first time, she was thankful that her parents didn't read wizard news. When the first note arrived, she groaned. It was from Ron.

Hermione! Are you under the imperius curse or something? My wife received her copy of Witch Weekly and I practically skyrocketed before I even read the article. What do you mean, "Yes?" Any question like that from Malfoy should be answered NO! What's he doing even proposing to you? Or has the dictionary changed? No, enemy does not mean spouse!

Ron ranted on for quite a while, but Hermione had just received two more envelopes.

I hate you! Drakey is mine, MINE! You horrible little Mudblood! You'll never make it as a couple, never! I don't care if there's a curse attached. You stay away from my Draco!

Pansy Bludwurm

Hermione turned to the next one.

Dear Miss Granger,

Congratulations on your impending marriage! We at Gringotts would like to inform you of our new account-type, specifically for married peoples. We are almost always open, so please feel free to drop by with your fiancé.

Hobskitch

Head of Marketing at Gringotts Wizard Bank

Hermione's kitchen was now flooded with owls. The next time she saw Draco Malfoy, she would curse him so badly his children would feel it! Children? Aw, shoot! His children would be her children as well! Was there no way to inflict revenge? She started shooing owls out through her kitchen window.

"Here too, eh?" came a voice from behind her.

"MALFOY!" Hermione practically screamed, turning around and glaring.

"Calm down, calm down!" Malfoy said, dusting some owl droppings off the closest chair and pulling it out for her. She just kept glaring.

"What is the meaning of this?" she spat, shaking with rage.

"What, can't a guy propose to a girl anymore?" Malfoy asked, calmly smiling.

"Not in a restaurant full of people and press he can't!" She could feel her throat tightening. She was going to cry and there was no way to stop it.

"Listen, I guess I should explain."

"You guess?" Hermione asked, voice slowly cracking. She blinked several times, fighting the tears. "Draco, I've been embarrassed beyond a simple explanation..."

Malfoy sighed, got out his wand, and muttered "Scourgify." All droppings and feathers disappeared from the room. He could hear her voice growing weaker. If there was anything that truly made him uncomfortable, it was crying women. He'd seen her crying once before, of course. That had been back in his fifth year. He recalled, rather ashamedly, that he had been helping keep her and her friends captive by wand-tip. If he'd known back then that he'd need her to like him even slightly in order to ensure his future, he'd have told Bulstrode to loosen her grip. "Well," he said, placating her the best he could, "it came to my attention that it would be best to try and keep the situation clear." Was his defense too weak? Granger's face was contorting under the effort of stopping herself from crying. He pressed on. "What I mean is, it seemed best to make the thing public so that...er..."

"I couldn't weasel out?" Granger croaked, eyes looking shinier than usual.

"Exactly," Draco said, nodding. Uh oh, here comes the waterworks. Tears were streaming down her face. "But I, er, didn't mean to make you so upset!"

"You idiot!" Granger croaked, voice fully nasally now. "You were already threatening me with DEATH! Why'd you think, argh!" She had stood up and ran for a box of tissues on the other side of the room and blew her nose, which had become dangerously wet.

Draco was feeling very uncomfortable. The sight of Granger, a girl he'd always detested but admired for her will, standing here and crying because of him was unsettling.

"What about the whole courting thing, anyway?" she asked, once she'd settled herself slightly, though she was still dabbing at her eyes. "Ever stop to think that that plan might have actually worked? But no! You had to go and stay your arrogant, slimy, Malfoy self! You never put any faith in me at all, did you?"

Faith? What was she talking about? Wait a second... Had he ever really had a chance at convincing her to be his wife naturally? If she thought yes, than he knew her better than she did! They'd hated each other too long for her to drop everything and simply be his wife forevermore... right?

"Why'd you come over, anyway?" Granger asked, arms crossed and sitting opposite him.

"Pajamas," he replied, tiredly. Her pajamas had changed to teal today. It almost felt like a sort of sport, coming over to see what color they'd changed to.

"Well, you've seen them! Would you mind leaving now? I suppose we really don't need to be seeing each other until April."

April? So that's why she was so upset! He'd moved the date up! She was staring at him intensely, as if daring him to confirm April as the next time they'd be required to see one another. Well, if that was what she thought, then-wait a second. "I still want to court you, Hermione."

Hermione shifted. Had he just said that he still wanted to court her? Well there was a surprise! Maybe the git had some sense in him after all.

"Look, I know you aren't happy with what I did, but you've got to see this from my perspective! The sooner we're married, the sooner I can start breathing again. If, for whatever reason, you manage to get out of this, I want to have plenty of time to prepare my will! I don't want to die!"

Well, at least he'd finally provided an explanation that didn't completely insult her. That was somewhat refreshing. "Fine, whatever!" she said, no-longer caring what he put her through.

"Good, good, good," Draco said, breathing again as he heard what seemed like a slight pardon. He drew her copy of Witch Weekly toward him and glanced at their picture. "So... How was the kiss?" he asked, suddenly struck with a desire to tease her.

Granger blinked, slowly. "I'm not even sure our lips touched," she said, flatly.

"Oh, they did," Draco said, smiling and looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "And trust me, they will again."

"Yay," she said in an even flatter tone.

"How about now?" he asked, not really meaning it but feeling oddly inspired.

"You're kidding me, right? You made me cry, you imbecile!" She said, eyebrows nearing her forehead.

"Worth a try," Draco said, shrugging his shoulders. She stood, and he took it as a cue that he was meant to leave. "At least let me give you a hug?" he asked.

Granger put her hands on her hips but didn't offer any real verbal protest. He approached, warily, and held out his arms. Was it his imagination or was she actually coming to him? SLAP! His face stung as he watched her walk away. She was good at slapping, he had to admit it. He looked at her for one last time and Disapparated.


	10. When Ron's Right, He's Right

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 10- When Ron's Right, He's Right

By Marmalade Fever

Hermione made her way to work, feeling every eye on Diagon Alley staring at her. It didn't help that there also seemed to be an overabundance of magazine stands. Everywhere she went, the pale face of Draco Malfoy kept looking at her and smiling toothily. It was going to be a very, very long day. As she unlocked the door of Flourish and Blotts at eight o'clock, she immediately decided that it would be best to work in the back room that day.

"Miss Granger! May I have a word?" asked a very tall witch with tight curls. "I represent Teen Warlock magazine. How well would you say that Draco Malfoy kisses?"

"If you were an animal, what would you be?"

"Is it true that you and Mr. Malfoy secretly dated at Hogwarts?"

"How did you feel when you were proposed to?"

"May I use the restroom?"

"It's to your right!" Hermione said, backing up into a card catalogue. "Now please, the rest of you, just leave! This is a business!" She started to slip towards the back of the store but was stopped by a voice from behind her.

"Hermione?" Oh no! She'd been dreading this moment.

"Hi Ron," she said, turning around to face her very tall, very read-headed friend.

"You didn't return my letter," he said, elbowing his way through the crowd of reporters.

"Sorry about that, I was a little busy yesterday," Hermione said truthfully.

"So, what's this all about?" he asked, eyes wide as a camera flashed right in his face.

"Better not talk here," Hermione said, grabbing his hand and pulling him into a storage room. "You want the long version or the short version?"

"Short, I suppose," Ron said, still gaping at her.

"To make it simple, I've got to marry Malfoy or else his Dad's going to kill me," Hermione said bluntly, crossing her arms as she did so.

"Okay... what's the long version?" Ron asked, ogling at her.

Hermione sighed. The explanation was starting to wear her out. "A couple weeks ago, Malfoy sent me a letter and asked me to a restaurant for dinner. It seems everyone in his family has to get married to someone who fits the exact specifications or else they end up poor and cursed. It also seems that I'm the only one left who fits the specifications. So... Malfoy's got until his next birthday to marry me or else. His Dad decided that it would be best to threaten me, as well."

Ron rubbed his temples. "This is illegal! The law's got to be able to protect you!"

"Oh come on, Ron! We both know that Lucius Malfoy doesn't exactly uphold the law! And besides..."

"Besides what?" Ron asked, looking at her seriously. Good question...

"I sort of... feel bad for him," Hermione said wistfully.

"Who? Lucius?" Ron asked, looking at her critically.

"No! Of course not! I meant Draco!"

"You call him Draco?" Ron asked.

"You just called his father by his first name, Ronald!" Hermione said, feeling a head-ache coming on.

"What's there to feel sorry for? He's a slimy git!" Ron said, crossing his arms, darkly.

"We're both in the same boat, really. It's either both of us or neither of us," Hermione said, trying to sound persuasive.

"So what if he dies!" Ron said. "Wait a moment... you're not developing feelings for him, are you?"

Hermione hesitated. "Of course not!"

"I heard that! You aren't sure! Gracious, Hermione! This is Malfoy we're talking about!"

"I know... But you haven't seen him lately--"

"So now you think he's handsome?" Ron broke in.

"I meant he's been acting differently! Sure, he's made a few bad mistakes, but overall he's actually been trying to make this work out... for the long run." Hermione shifted on her feet. Ron didn't say anything more for awhile.

"Sounds to me like you told me a lie a minute ago, Hermione. I think you do have feelings for him. If you didn't, you'd have put in more of an effort to get away from him. You know you could escape, if you wanted to. Dumbledore'd probably take you in, no problem. But seeing your lack of an effort tells me that you don't want to get away. You want to marry him, don't you!"

"I..." she really didn't know what to say. Part of her wanted to deny the whole thing and say that Lucius Malfoy wouldn't rest before she married his son... the other half had to agree though. She was acting rather suspiciously. Maybe Ron was right for once; maybe she did have feelings for Draco. She hated it when Ron was right... and he was right.

"I'll talk to you soon, okay Hermione?" Ron asked, stooping over and squeezing her hand.

"See you around, Ron..." she mumbled, sitting down, having just lost the will to stand. She wondered if it was too late to call in sick...

"Hey there." Hermione looked up. Apparently, Malfoy had just walked in from the front of the store. "Quite a mob of reporters out there, eh?"

Hermione frowned. "I'll take that hug now," she said, feeling her voice cracking for the second time in two days. Malfoy obliged and held her in his arms for a full minute as she started to sob again. She really did hate it when Ron was right.


	11. Out of the Shop

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 11-Out of the Shop

By Marmalade Fever

Draco ignored the stares of passersby as he marched into Flourish and Blotts. The place was downright packed, and it could scarcely be five after eight. He wriggled through the crowd, paying no heed to the flashes going off and the quick-quotes quills scratching away around him. Where was she? She'd probably done the smart thing and escaped to one of the employee-only areas. He marched primly towards the back room and stopped. He could hear voices. One of them was clearly Granger's. The other belonged to the Weasel-King.

A moment later, the tall, gangly figure of Weasley came through the door. He gave Draco a meaningful look and continued on through the store. Draco watched as the red-head disappeared from view. He then slipped through the door.

"Here too, eh?" he asked, referring to the mob of reporters outside. She turned her head, and he caught his breath. She looked about ready to break out into tears again... Oh brother, what had he done this time?

"I think I'll take that hug now," she said. Draco's mind flashed back to the day before. Well, if she wanted a hug, he wasn't going to deny it to her! Draco opened his arms for her and, to his amazement, watched as she slipped into them and immediately began sobbing onto his shoulder. What could possibly have brought on this sudden change? It must have been Weasley. In that case, it seemed he owed him a debt of gratitude. Granger was still sobbing onto his shoulder. The top of her head was just brushing against his cheek. Her hair had an odd sort of spring to it. At the same time, it felt crunchy, but in a good way. It was almost as if her hair served as a sort of cushion. Further down, the other end of her hair was brushing against his hands. It tickled slightly. Draco breathed in softly. She had a sweet shampoo scent about her. It had a calming effect on him. By far, this was the best hug he'd ever had. It was a relatively simple joy, but it felt so empowering to have someone give him this sort of... trust. And so he simply stood there and soaked in his present position until he felt her pull away.

"Sorry about that," she said, running a palm over her face. Suddenly it seemed like it would be horribly romantic if he were to hold her head and brush a tear off with his thumb. Too late though, no tears in sight.

"No problem," he replied. "Listen, I don't think you should work today. Is there anyone you can get to come in?"

She thought for a moment. "I suppose I could floo Lulu... Come on, there's a fireplace in the office." He followed her out through the door, ignoring the ever-present reporters, and into a shabby-looking office. She took a pinch of dust, ducked her head in, and was out again in no time. "She'll be here in ten minutes."

"Good," Draco said, nodding. "There are things that need planning. We need to get together sometime and decide on the details of the wedding."

She nodded, though slowly.

"You also need to meet with my mother. She's throwing you a shower in a couple months. Have to go over the guest-list, I suppose."

"Alright... anything else?"

"Well, there was one more thing..." Draco said, looking serious.

"And what would that be?" Granger asked, squinting at him.

"Well... now don't go jumping to conclusions, but my travel agent's been hounding me... Where do you want to go for our honey-moon?" Just as he'd expected, the color drained from her face. "Come on, it's a relatively simple question. Just pick a country, any country."

"Er..." she said, seemingly having just relocated her tongue, "surprise me?"

Draco sighed with relief. "Fine," he said, "one surprise, coming up." True enough, his travel agent had sent him what must have been seven owls since the word had gone out yesterday. What was worse, those owls had been trained to scratch. Now he was free to decide by himself... without suffering any wounds. Granger had sat down on a chair in the corner and was staring down at her watch. Whoever this Lulu was had another eight minutes in which to get there.

"Well," he said, "what do you want to do today?"

Granger didn't reply immediately. "I don't know," she said at last.

"How does planning sound to you?" Draco asked, though personally it was about the last thing he felt like doing today.

Granger shrugged. "I usually hang out with Ginny on Monday nights. Guess we have a few hours to go until then, though."

"Well, whatever we decide to do, let's make it somewhere a little less public," Draco said, gesturing toward the door where a hundred echoing voices were resonating.

"Or at least where no one would care that we're engaged," she said, hopelessly. "Like muggle-London or something, but I can't imagine you out there," she added.

"Come now, I went with you to your parents' house only last week!"

"Yeah, but they know about witches and wizards, don't they?" Granger said, almost snobbily.

"You've got to stop insulting me like this," Draco said, with a wink. "If you want to go to muggle-London, then we're going to muggle-London," he said, firmly.

A moment later, a plump witch with oval-shaped glasses Apparated into the room. "Lulu, I'm so glad you could come on such short notice," Granger said.

"Oh, it's no problem dear. I was beginning to get bored with my cross-word puzzle anyway... The clues always seem to have something to do with the Weird Sisters... Anyway, you just go ahead and do whatever you can to get away from the media, and--" she suddenly noticed Draco's presence "-great Scott! It's really him, isn't it? Mr. Malfoy, I am a HUGE fan!"

Fan? What sort of fans did he have? "It's very nice to meet you... Tell me, what exactly is it that you're a fan of?"

"I read your book, 'Life of the Rich, but Misunderstood.' It changed my life!"

Granger had put on a sudden look of utmost amusement. Draco groaned silently. Would that stupid book ever stop haunting him? True, it had brought him up in popularity by 25 , but any well-read reader saw it for just what it was, over-sentimental drivel. He hadn't even done the actual writing himself. He had meant to read it through first before allowing it to go to the publishers, but he'd been particularly prone to procrastination at the time. Granger, apparently, had not been fooled at all. Lulu on the other hand... "Well, it's always great to meet a fan. We need to get going now, though. Thank you for filling in for Gr-Hermione." He latched his hand onto her shoulder and steered her out of the office. "Don't say it," he muttered.

"I wasn't going to say anything," she said, smiling innocently as they made a bee-line for the door.

"They're leaving!" a tall reporter with a brown bowler said, pointing at them and causing a sudden scramble towards the door. People were shouting questions at them like crazy.

"No comment!" Draco shouted as he wrenched the door open and pushed himself and Granger out. "Come on!" he said, leading her down the street and into the back alley behind The Leaky Cauldron. They hastily made their way through the pub and out into Muggle-London. Almost immediately, muggles began giving them strange looks. It wasn't much of a surprise, since both of them were still wearing robes. Draco looked around uncertainly. He'd very seldom gone into Muggle-inhabited areas. Granger, on the other hand, was marching smartly down the sidewalk, and he had to run to catch up.

"So, where should we go?" he asked, as they went around a corner.

"Oh, you'll see," she said, smiling once more. They walked down a few more blocks and straight into a train station. She placed a few coins into a machine, pressed a few buttons, and two tickets popped out. A moment later they were crammed inside a crowded car without seats.

"Where are we going?" Draco repeated his question, as the doors closed and the train began to move.

"You'll see," she said, simply.

"Hmm," Draco said, holding onto a pole as the train lurched slightly. She brushed against him as she attempted to maintain her balance. He put his hand firmly on her shoulder to keep her steady and noticed a blush go through her cheeks. Well, she obviously wasn't mad at him anymore or at least not very. The train stopped a few minutes later, and they got off. They walked out onto the street and down a few more blocks.

"Here we are," she said, gesturing to a large building in front of them.

"You have got to be kidding me," Draco said, staring up at a sign, reading, "Hugh's Bowlerama."

"Come on," she said, leading the way inside.

"Shoe sizes?" a woman behind a desk asked, as Draco looked around with concern. Muggle entertainment, he'd never get it. Why anyone would want to throw a ball down a strip of wood floor just to knock over some odd white puns, or whatever they were called, was beyond him.

"Size seven and, er Draco? What size do you wear?" Granger asked, looking over at him.

"I'm not sure," he replied, never having worn muggle clothing before.

The woman behind the desk groaned and pointed out a shoe-sizing chart on the floor. He pulled off his shoe and lined his foot up with one of the neon-colored feet on the mat. "Twelve," he said, with uncertainty.

The woman shook her head and came around the desk and peered down at the feet. "Ten and a half, dear," she said. Draco noticed that the woman reeked of cigarette smoke, yet another thing he'd never understand about muggles. The woman returned to the desk and pulled out two pairs of shoes. Granger paid, and they made their way to their lane.

"Put your shoes on," Granger instructed.

"Yeah, I got that part," Draco said back, haughtily.

"Then we need to choose balls," she said, unperturbed. Behind them was a shelf full of bowling balls. "It needs to have the right size finger holes and be heavy, but not too heavy."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Draco said, though he was secretly hitting himself for not realizing that the odd holes in the balls were for fingers. He selected a dark blue ball and watched as Granger entered their initials into some sort of machine. D.M. and H.G. appeared on a screen above them. "Just think, not long from now you'll be H.M. instead."

"Goody-goody gumdrops," Granger said sarcastically. "Okay, so it's my turn first. Watch me closely." She walked out onto the wooden floor, brought her arm out, swung it backwards, crouched over, walked forward, and swung. Her ball went racing down the lane and knocked over the two right puns. "Now, my ball is going to come back up and I'm going to try and knock over the rest of the pins." Pins, Draco thought to himself, pins, not puns. Her ball came rolling out of another machine and she went through the strange gestures again, knocking the rest of the pins over. She pointed up to the screen. "See that slash? It means my score was a spare. That's when I knock over all the pins in two tries."

"Good job," Draco said, picking up his own ball and walking out onto the polished floor. He crouched over, swung his arm back, and sent the ball soaring. It went straight into the gutter.

"Don't worry, you get two chances," Granger said cheerily. Draco groaned and waited for his ball to come back. He tried again... it went into the gutter even earlier. An ominous zero appeared on the screen. "Better luck on your next turn, trust me," Granger said, smiling a little too kindly and picking up her own ball. She sent it sailing down the lane and knocked all the pins down. She pointed up to the screen. "See that X? It's called a strike. It's your turn again."

Draco picked up his ball and marched out onto the floor. This was getting embarrassing. She could hardly even fly, yet he was the one that was looking like a loser. He gritted his teeth and tried again. The ball stayed in the center of the lane, swerved, and landed in the gutter two feet before it would have knocked down a pin. He waited, his back to Granger, and picked up his ball. It was now or never; he needed a spare. He stepped forward, bent over, swung his wrist back, and threw the ball down the lane. It bounced. Granger's ball hadn't bounced. It skidded and came to a halt in the center of the lane. Come on, he couldn't have done that badly! Someone behind him was snickering. He turned. There, next to Granger, stood Potter and his bride. Potter was stuffing something into his pocket.

"Hello Draco, it's nice to see you again," the almost too friendly Penelope Potter said.

Draco didn't say anything, instead staring icily at her husband. "You better go get that," Potter said, pointing down the lane at Draco's ball. Draco began to withdraw his wand. "Not so fast, there are muggles here," he hissed.

"Why don't you get it then?" Draco asked.

"I don't have my shoes on," Potter said, shrugging.

"How about if I get it?" Granger said, sounding torn.

"No," the two men said in unison.

"Well for heaven's sake, why not?" she asked, resting her hands on her hips.

"You could slip," Potter said automatically.

Granger groaned, picked up her own ball, and sent it down the lane after Draco's, knocking it into the gutter and still managing to knock over two pins. D.M.'s score now read 0/2. Both men stared at her in surprise. "Did I mention I'm good at pool as well?" she asked.

"Hermione, you're good at everything!" Potter said, smiling at her. Draco didn't like the way he was smiling at her. He glanced over at Penelope. Perhaps she was thinking the same thing? No, she was smiling too.

Draco put his arm around Granger's shoulders. "She sure is," he said, giving Potter a look. Potter frowned and so did Granger.

"Well," she said, ducking out from under his arm, "do you two want to join us?"

"No thanks, we're just picking up Pen's nephew from a birthday party," Potter said, sounding like his normal self. "There he is now," he said, pointing towards a six-year-old boy amid a jumble of other kids and adults.

"No school today?" Granger asked with interest.

"Yeah, three-day weekend," Penelope said, nodding and waving her nephew over.

"Uncle Harry!" the little boy cried and started running over. His lips were stained red from punch. "Aunt Penny! Are you taking me home? Cool! I like it at your guy's house."

"Hey Nathan! You remember Aunt Hermione?" Penelope asked.

"Yeah, you're the one who makes the really good cake!" Nathan said, smiling up at Granger. "I don't want any right now though; I'm stuffed." He noticed Draco. "Hi! Who're you?"

"This is Mr. Malfoy, Nathan. He and Hermione are getting married," Penelope informed him.

"REALLY? Cool! If you have kids, can they come over to my house and play? Amy can come too," he said, gesturing to Penelope's stomach.

"We'll see," Draco said, feeling uncomfortable. Granger and Potter seemed to be having similar reactions. Penelope, however, just smiled.

"Hey Nathan, how about we go get in the car? We've got a new video game you can try out," Potter said.

"Alright!" Nathan cried. The three of them left.

"Want to finish playing?" Granger asked, cautiously.

"Not really," Draco replied, glancing up dismally at the score board.

"Yeah, me neither. Let's go."

End Notes:

Nathan is based on a little boy who, when I was about seventeen, asked me if he could play with my kids. I told him I might not have any for ten years, but he didn't seem to believe me... Also, shoe sizes are UK compatible.


	12. The Two Week Anniversary

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 12-The Two Week Anniversary

By Marmalade Fever

"Hey Ginny, I don't really feel like going out tonight," Hermione said, carefully balanced over her hearth.

"I'm not surprised," the red-head replied. "We'll do something next week."

"Thanks a million. My neck is starting to hurt now. See you?"

"Yeah, sure. Just owl me with when and where. And Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

"You better give me all the details."

"Bye Ginny," Hermione said, pulling her head out and watching the world spinning around her for a minute. She put the lid back on her canister of floo powder and brushed the soot off of herself. No sooner had she done so than another head came popping into her own fireplace. "Malfoy!" Hermione said, gasping from surprise.

"Call me Draco," he said with a wink.

"Okay, Draco... What do you want?" Hermione asked. It was about half past four and she hadn't seen him since ten that morning.

"Couple things. First, Mother wants to know if she can meet with you about the shower on Saturday, that okay?"

"That's fine, just give me a time," Hermione said, sitting down cross-legged on the hearth.

"Eleven at the manor, she wants to have tea..." Draco said, making a small face.

"And what's wrong with tea?"

"Nothing, if you're a girl. Also, I would like to schedule a dinner appointment with you tomorrow night. Say, sevenish at my house?"

"Hold on, I better write this all down," Hermione said, standing up and grabbing a pencil and a pad of paper. "Okay, so eleven at your parents' house on Saturday and seven at your house tomorrow," she said, scribbling away. "Are you making dinner?" she asked, suddenly curious.

"Maybe yes, maybe no," he said, winking again.

"You know, for someone I used to think of as an arrogant snob, you're very romantic, aren't you?" she said, smirking.

"Ah, so you don't think of me as being that way anymore, eh? And yes, the romantic part is true, very true," he said, smiling slyly.

"See you tomorrow night then," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Bye Hermione," he said with a final wink, and he disappeared from her fireplace again. Hermione sat down on her couch with a book. Despite the situation, she really was starting to enjoy having a boyfriend again... even if it was Malfoy. It was also pretty nice to get to see another side of his personality. If it hadn't been for the contract, she'd never have seen it. If it hadn't been for the contract, they would never have gotten together. What's more, she was actually starting to like him-scary thought.

She set her book aside. She couldn't concentrate. Instead she closed her eyes. She smiled. There they were at the bowling alley and Draco's eyes were lit up with panic from Nathan's question about playing with their future children. The image of a little blonde girl wafted into her mind again. Of course they would have to have children. That seemed to be the main purpose for having the Malfoy Marriage Contract--to ensure the continuation of the family name. That probably meant that they would have to have a son at some point. Hermione's eyes snapped open. What if her children ended up in Slytherin? Or would they? They wouldn't be purebloods, after all... Well, she would just have to be sure to raise them properly and far, far away from their grandfather.

Malfoy had said that his mother wanted to discuss the wedding shower on Saturday. Maybe she could get Ginny to go with her? She hated the idea of being stuck in the Malfoy Manor with just Lucius and Narcissa. True, Mrs. Malfoy wasn't nearly as bad as her husband, but she still wasn't chummy with her. Yes, she'd have to remember to ask if Ginny could come along. After all, it was more of a responsibility of the bridesmaids than of the bride.

The night passed uneventfully and Hermione went to work in the morning, determined to stay the whole day. Strangely enough, there wasn't a single member of the press there. Actually, there was one reporter, but he was covering a piece about reading materials and didn't seem to know a thing about the wedding. She went home after work, changed into a skirt and blouse, and Apparated onto Malfoy's front step. She'd never asked whether she was supposed to meet him here or not, but as she found a note on the door, it seemed that she had guessed well.

Dear Hermione,

Please let yourself in. I needed to run a quick errand. I'll be back in a few minutes.

Love,

Draco

Marveling at the word "love," she opened the door and, with some difficulty, found her way to the living room. The house seemed completely devoid of house elves. She sat down on a sofa and gazed about the room. There were half a dozen candles floating near the ceiling, and there was a soft tinkle of music coming from somewhere. Straining her ears, she almost snorted with laughter. "She's in love with me and I feel fine." Somehow, the fact that Malfoy liked the Beatles was hilarious. Actually, the fact that Malfoy liked any song, muggle or not, that had the word love in it, was downright entertaining. She got up to search for the source of the music and found a phonograph playing a record. Oh, this was too good! Malfoy owned a muggle antique!

She looked around the room a little more and found a few other muggle artifacts that she would never have guessed that he would own. Living here might not be as bad as all that. She had just bent over to examine a music box when she realized that Malfoy had walked into the room, one hand behind his back.

"This," he said, moving his hand in front of him to reveal a bouquet, "is for you."

Hermione moved forward to take the flowers from him, noticing that his eyes were sparkling. She shifted. "Thank you, Draco."

"Now, if you'll follow me, Mademoiselle, I'll lead you to the dining room." He extended his arm, and, with slight hesitation, she took it. He led her down the hall and into a very large room with a very small table for two. He pulled a chair out for her, waited for her to sit down, took her napkin off her plate, and placed it on her lap for her. "Would you care for some champagne?" he asked, holding up a bottle.

"Only a little," she said, trying not to look like she was overly embarrassed by the attention he was giving her. He poured some into a champagne flute and sat down across from her. "This is very, er, nice," she commented. There were more of the same candles floating over the table, but otherwise the room was fairly dark.

"I'm glad you think so," he said, pouring champagne into his own glass. He then reached into the inside of his robes and pulled out his wand. "Watch this," he said. He tapped a silver dome on the table and lifted it. Inside were a variety of appetizers, two of each. "Here, have a quiche."

Hermione took it, trying to ignore the memories of all the corny jokes she'd heard over the years about quiche sound vaguely like kiss, and ate it. When the appetizers were finished, Malfoy tapped the silver dome again and two plates of salad appeared.

"So," he said, after swallowing a piece of tomato, "you found my note alright?"

"Just fine," Hermione said. Her mind had been drifting off to her own kitchen, where there may or may not have been several very old heads of lettuce in her refrigerator. She couldn't remember if she had thrown them away or not. "Did you get your errand done?" she asked.

"Yes, I did. I'm afraid I left your bouquet to the last minute."

"So... is this our two week anniversary celebration?" she asked, stabbing an olive with her fork and popping it into her mouth.

"Yes it is," he said, smiling and setting down his fork, having finished his salad.

"And have you planned out our three week anniversary?" she asked, finishing her own salad.

"No, not yet. I figure that I have all week to do so." He set their plates inside the dome, tapped it, and revealed the main course of lobster.

"Well, I've got to tell you, I'm liking the two week a lot more than the one week," Hermione said, examining her lobster.

"Does that mean that I'm forgiven?" he asked, dipping a piece of his lobster into a pool of melted butter and sticking it in his mouth.

Hermione shrugged in answer.

"Good enough," he said. "Oh, and you'll want to leave room for pudding, too." The rest of the lobster and a slice of lemon cheesecake later, and Hermione was stuffed. Malfoy put the dishes under the dome and tapped it. "Would you like to accompany me to the living room, m' lady?" he asked.

Hermione nodded and he extended his arm for her again and led her back to the living room where the record had started over again. They sat down on the sofa. "I have something for you," he said. Hermione was starting to feel very sleepy from eating so much and only smiled at him in response. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small ring box that he had scared her with the week before. "You left the restaurant so quickly that you didn't take this with you," he said. He carefully picked up her hand and slipped the ring onto her finger. "Hermione," he said, and she was surprised by the sincerity in his face, "I know I've already asked you this, but it seems like I've never gotten an honest answer. Sure, you said yes... but I don't want us just to be legally married. I want you to feel like... I don't know. I want you to know that I'm not just doing this to save my own skin. You know?"

Hermione sighed. "Yeah, I know. But--" she had been about to say, but you would never have asked me if it hadn't been to save your own skin, but instead she stopped short. He had begun to lean in a little closer than she was comfortable with. He was getting closer and closer until their noses could have touched. Being this close was making her cross-eyed, and the second she closed her eyes, she wished she hadn't. He had leaned in the rest of the way and was kissing her. What surprised her most was the fact that she was kissing him back. A girlish giddiness swept through her. Old as she was, the truth was that this, not counting the one the week before, was her first kiss. It only lasted maybe three seconds, but it felt like longer. When they broke away and opened their eyes, they didn't say anything. He held her hand in his for a few minutes, admiring the effect the ring had on it. "Good night, Draco," Hermione said at last and Apparated back to her own home.


	13. Narcissa

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 13- Narcissa

By Marmalade Fever

Draco slid underneath the covers in his bed, smiling. He'd kissed her. Half of him squirmed under the thought that he had kissed a mudblood, the other half was pleased. Those two lips would never look the same to him again. They were just so... he couldn't describe it. It had been years since he had kissed a girl. He'd never especially liked Pansy, who was downright disgusting in comparison. That was probably why he had only kissed her once. Granger was also about five times prettier, not to mention smarter, more interesting, and nice. Then there was also the memory of her hand. That delicate little hand of hers which fit perfectly into his... That ring on her finger gave him an odd sense of pride. It was as if she were his property and no one else's. It was funny to think how upset she'd be if she knew that he thought of her as property. That wasn't exactly it though. Property seemed a poor word. It was more like she couldn't be taken away. Not so much as if she were his per se, but that she was consenting to be with him, or something like that. It was hard to admit, but this marriage contract had made him happier than he had been in a long time. A wife was exactly what was missing in his life. He needed some one to love. Love? No, he wasn't ready to use that word. He didn't love her... certainly not! Right? Oh bugger did he need some sleep...

Hermione stared up at her ceiling from her bed. Her hand was voluntarily running itself over and over her lips. What had ever happened to stupid, muggle-hating, suck-upping, bratty, snobby Draco Malfoy? When had he become so romantic, so sweet, so tender, so... masculine? She felt guilty for allowing him to kiss her. What would Ron and Harry think? Ron must have been right. She did want this to happen, despite what her brain was saying. He had been the enemy, she had accused him of being the Heir of Slytherin, she knew full well that he came from a family of Death-Eaters, and yet... somehow he had changed. What had he been like over the years when she hadn't seen him? How had he acted when he was all alone? Maybe he had always been a decent person, just never in front of others. He had, after all, merited a prefect badge. Maybe Dumbledore knew something she didn't? She'd never hoped for something so much in her life. Her hand left her lips, where they still felt tingly. A kiss that good could only have come from years of practice on his part. The pig. But of course he'd have had plenty of opportunity. She'd always secretly admitted that he was the best looking boy in her year back at Hogwarts. Back then she would have rolled her eyes if she had seen him walking around with one of those stupid girls who had practically swarmed around him in his sixth and seventh year. She grinned slightly, imagining the look of jealousy on any one of those girl's faces if they were to see her and Draco together. Most of those girls had to be married now, or else the contract would have permitted a broader range of girls for Draco to choose from. The kiss had been very gentle though. He hadn't exactly been trying to suck the very skin off of her skull, which showed a certain level of respect towards her. It had been soft and perfect. She wondered if she'd ever be able to meet his eyes again. Another thing had happened over the years. Somehow he had gone from being a scrawny thing which had to hide behind Crabbe and Goyle, to being tall, muscular, and handsome. What had ever happened to Crabbe and Goyle, anyway? Draco hadn't mentioned them once that she could recall. Questions, questions, so many questions. It was time to sleep.

Saturday morning came and Hermione and Ginny arrived at the front door of the Malfoy Manor. They panted slightly, having walked from Malfoy's house. The same house-elf with the dish towel around its middle led them inside and into a room on the second floor where Mrs. Malfoy had prepared tea.

"Miss Granger," she said rising and coming within a half an inch of Hermione's cheek, as if pretending to kiss it. "Miss Weasley, I presume?" she asked, turning her lifted nose toward Ginny.

"No, no, it's Mrs. Thomas," Ginny hurriedly corrected.

"Yes, well, of course it is," Mrs. Malfoy said, with a slight snort. "Is that the ring?" she said, turning back to Hermione and examining her hand.

"Yes, it is," Hermione said, with a slight nod.

"The boy has good taste, I see. He gets that from both sides of the family. Tell me, I haven't seen Draco for a few days, how is he?" Narcissa asked, eying Hermione with a hawk-like gaze.

"Oh, he's just fine. I haven't seen him since Tuesday, though, so I probably don't know that much more than you," Hermione replied, sincerely hoping not to have to go into detail about what had happened on Tuesday. It had been hard enough going over it with Ginny on the way over. She certainly didn't want to get into a lot of girl talk with Narcissa Malfoy.

"Well, isn't that nice? Why don't we get to business, hmm?" They sat down at a table where half a dozen house-elves where already swarming, putting down dish after dish. With a snap of Mrs. Malfoy's fingers, they were gone. "Now, I need to know whom you would like to invite."

"Well," Hermione said, pausing with a teacup halfway to her mouth, "I suppose Ginny, for starters, her mother, Mrs. Weasley, my mother, my aunt, Trudy, and my cousins, Alice and Louise, Lavender and Parvati-I'm not sure what their surnames are these days, and--" Hermione stopped. Mrs. Malfoy had jotted down only three names.

"And?" Mrs. Malfoy asked, looking up.

"What about my family and Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione asked, feeling slightly sickened.

"Well, I suppose if you really want Molly Weasley there then she can come. You must admit though, that muggles really shouldn't be, er, mixing. I mean, does your aunt or either of your cousins know about your being a witch?"

"Well, no, I guess not. But why can't my mother come?"

"And what's wrong with my mother?" Ginny asked, glaring.

Mrs. Malfoy ignored Ginny's question. "I just don't think that any of the ladies that I'm inviting would get along with her. Why don't you have a second shower, just with your relatives? Hmm?"

There was very little good arguing with that idea. It would be safer to keep her relatives in the dark about the real nature of this wedding. "Just the same, I'm sure my mother would like to meet with you at some point, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Maybe at Christmas," Mrs. Malfoy said, sniffing. "Now, who were these other girls?"

Hermione listed several other girls from Hogwarts, as well as some of her co-workers, and Tonks. She decided to have Penelope come to the muggle shower. Mrs. Malfoy, apparently, had already made a list of about ten girls from Slytherin and elsewhere and it took a good half hour of persuading to get her to remove a couple. ("I really don't think it would be a good idea to invite Pansy... she really isn't taking the idea well.")

"Now, shall we decide on a date? How about on a Sunday, three weeks from now? Say one o'clock?"

"Fine," Hermione said, feeling drained.

"And have you given any thought about whom you would like as your bridesmaids?"

"Ginny's going to be my maid of honor. Other than that, no." Ginny stirred slightly from the stupor she'd been in for the last few minutes at the sound of her name.

"Why don't I help you plan this, Mrs. Malfoy? It's not right for Hermione to plan this herself," Ginny said, unblinkingly.

"That won't be necessary. I already have everything else planned. Now, why don't you two go home now?"

Ginny and Hermione looked at each other and practically ran for the door. "You can help me plan the other shower," Hermione said, as they strode back across the huge lawn toward Draco's property.

"Sure. I don't trust that woman, you know that?" Ginny asked, glancing back over her shoulder.

"Of course not. Who would?" Hermione said.

"Come now, Darling, don't badmouth my mother." They turned to find Malfoy striding towards them. A lump jumped into Hermione's throat at the sight of him. "Ginny," Malfoy said, nodding.

"Would you trust her if you were in our situation?" Ginny asked.

"Probably not!" he said, smiling. He was walking directly alongside of Hermione.

"What're you doing here?" Hermione said, finding her voice.

"Just thought I'd walk with you, that's all." He did a sort of mock yawn and stretch and put his arm over her shoulder. Hermione's heart sped up a few beats. She wasn't sure if she were relieved or not by Ginny's presence.

"Where's the nearest point of apparation?" Ginny asked, as they walked a little further.

"Just ahead," he said, pointing to the edge of the property where the trees began.

"See you then," Ginny said, hurrying forward and disappearing with a pop.

"What was that about?" Hermione wondered out loud.

"Oh, she probably just didn't want to intrude." He looked straight into her eyes and sent chills down her back. "Alright if I come and see what color your pajamas are in the morning?"

"Uh, sure... Maybe we can go to my parents' house and break the news to them?"

"Sounds good," he said, smiling in a friendly sort of way. They stopped at the edge of the property. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Cheer up, everything'll be fine." They each Disapparated.


	14. Welcome to the Family

Courting Miss Granger- Chapter 14- Welcome to the Family

By Marmalade Fever

Hermione was not surprised to find a blond head waiting patiently in her kitchen. Too bad for him, though, she had already gotten dressed. "Morning," she said without a glance in his direction but instead opening her refrigerator and taking out a carton of milk.

"I see you've mangaged to thwart my pajama scheme," he said from behind her, as she took a box of cereal from her cupboard.

"Yeah... Plus the weather's getting colder," she said, matter-of-factly, sitting down to her breakfast.

"You're at least going to tell me what color they were, aren't you?" Malfoy asked, resting his head on his hands. He was smiling innocently at her.

"Sort of a brownish olive-color," she replied, wrinkling her nose a bit.

"Aha, so maybe it wasn't just the weather then. Trying to impress me, eh?" he asked, giving her a more cheeky sort of smile. She rolled her eyes at him. Well, maybe she had decided against giving him a fashion show because she didn't like the color, so what? She certainly wasn't going to admit it to him. And besides, it was November for crying out loud! It had been raining for most of the week. "Well, you look lovely anyway," he added, making her blush slightly.

"Thank you, Draco," she said, batting her eyelashes in a mock pretty-girl act.

He laughed. "So, we're finally going to tell your parents. Any thoughts on the matter? I don't know how much you want to reveal about the contract. I'd say that you should come clean, but I don't exactly want them to throw any heavy objects at me either," he said, winking.

Hermione sighed. She hated lying to her parents, but he had a point. They wouldn't be very thrilled if they found out that the man she was going to marry was also threatening to kill her. It had all gotten so complicated. How could she explain that they had grown to actually sort of like one another? Or, in the very least, that he had done an excellent job making her think that they liked one another. Her parents had never been ones to take marriage lightly, not that they would take death lightly, either. Then there was also the factor that they had only been seeing each other for 3 weeks. Even with a modified explanation, her parents knew her too well to believe that she would ever do something so brash. She had been dating Algernon for eight months before she'd even introduced him to them, after all. Algernon, on the other hand, had been a completely different case. He'd been an intellectual, which is why she'd dated him in the first place. He'd also been nice enough, but she'd never actually felt attracted to him or even felt attached to him. In the whole nine months that they'd gone out, they had never even kissed, and it hadn't just been because of his too late for buber-tuber pus acne, either. "Well," she said, still thinking, "the truth would probably be best, so long as we make it very clear that we want this as well. And maybe we should leave out the part about your father threatening me..."

"Yeah," Malfoy said, nodding, "that sounds about right." Hermione went back to eating her cereal. Was it her imagination or was he staring at her? She sped up her eating. The sooner they got to her parents' house the better.

"Alright, let's go," she said, scourgifying her bowl and placing it back in the cupboard. Half a second later they were back on her parents' stoop, just escaping the pouring rain. Hermione rang the bell and subconsciously held her hand behind her back to hide her ring from view.

Draco watched his fiancée's nervous movements and grinned. Compared to her friends who actually knew him, this should be a breeze! He had to admit though, parents did have a tendency to, er, be overprotective. On a lighter note, though, at least her parents were muggles. There was very little possibility of either of them hexing him.

"Draco, Hermione!" It was Mr. Granger... Ted, wasn't it? "Honey, the kids are here!" he called over his shoulder. Mrs. Granger appeared in the doorway as well.

"Don't just stand there, come in," she said, leading them into the living room where a fire was burning merrily in the fireplace. "Let me just make a pot of tea and we can all have a nice chat," she added, smiling fondly at them before rushing off to the kitchen.

"Draco, my boy, it's good to see you again," Ted Granger said, sitting down on the couch and clapping a hand on Draco's shoulder. He did his best to smile back at the muggle man who was acting too nice for comfort. Granger sat down between them, her right hand deliberately blocking her left. "Well, I'm going to go help your mother," Mr. Granger said, standing up and leaving them with a suspiciously cheerful grin in place.

"Are they acting sort of odd to you?" Draco asked, as soon as the man had left the room.

"Most definitely. You don't think they were expecting this, do you?" she asked, still staring at the door to the kitchen.

"How could they be?" Both of the elder Grangers came back into the room with a pot of tea and a tray of biscuits.

"So, kids, what brings you by? Anything you wanted to _tell_ us about?" Margery Granger asked, leaning forward in what could only be anticipation.

Draco and Granger exchanged a look. "Well," Granger began, "we, er, do have something to tell you, as a matter of fact..." Both parents were leaning in with bated breath.

"We're, er, engaged," Draco finished, holding up Granger's hand to show them the ring. Her parents both leaned back with a sigh of relief.

"You knew, didn't you?" Granger said, looking back and forth between her parents.

"Well... yes, yes we did," Mrs. Granger said, nodding.

"How...?"

"It was your friend Ginny. She called yesterday, with some difficulty I might add, and asked if I could help her plan your wedding shower. I don't think she knew that we didn't know, though. So, how did this happen? We were so surprised... You've only been seeing each other for what, three weeks?"

Curse muggles and their ability to do math... Well, he might as well try and fill them in as pleasantly as possible. "First of all, let me assure you that I love your daughter," Draco started, ignoring the odd look on the girl's face, "but there's something else you need to know."

"And what is that?" Mr. Granger asked, eyebrows knitting and suddenly looking stern.

"Well, I'm what we call a 'pureblood.' That means that as far as my heritage goes back there have never been any wizard/non-wizard marriages." He was clearly losing them. "And, anyway, round about six hundred years ago my ancestors drew up a contract that said that everyone in our family has to marry by the age of twenty-six. I turned twenty-five a few weeks ago, which is when I found out about it. Funny thing is, Hermione here is the only girl left who fits the specifications... in the entire world."

Both of the elder Grangers looked shell-shocked. "And what happens if you aren't married by then?" Ted Granger asked, somehow managing to move his jaw.

"I lose out on the family fortune and I end up cursed, which pretty much translates into poor and dead."

No one said anything for several minutes. After a while Mrs. Granger stood and did something Draco was not expecting. "You poor boy," she said, hugging him, "welcome to the family! And thank the heavens that you're in love!"


	15. More Anniversaries

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 15- More Anniversaries

By yours truly, Marmalade Fever

Disclaimer: I don't own Cheerios. They belong to General Mills.

Hermione dodged as Malfoy's owl swooped into her kitchen Tuesday morning, dropping a package onto her cereal bowl. The owl swooped out again before she could even think about offering it a bit of her toast. The package was a flat box, about a foot long and six inches wide. She wiped a cheerio off of it before undoing the string it had been tied with. Inside the brown paper was a box of chocolate and a note.

Dearest,

Some unexpected guests have dropped in, and I'm afraid we'll have to cancel tonight's plans. As a consolation, I'm offering this box of chocolate. (I know, a poor substitute.) Also, you may be pleased to note, a week from Thursday is our one-month anniversary. I figure that that has to be more important than three weeks, so hopefully you'll be able to bear with me. My guests will be here for a few days, so I don't think I'll be able to see you until December 3rd. I'll pick you up at your house at eight. See you then, Miss Granger.

Your fiancé,

Draco Malfoy

Hermione set the note aside and opened the box of chocolates, eating one that looked like it could be caramel inside. It really did seem sometimes like he was trying to fatten her up or something. She had gained three pounds during the last three weeks. A pound a week wasn't exactly encouraging. She closed the box and told herself that she couldn't have another until after work.

...

The week passed relatively quickly and before she knew it, it was 8 o'clock on December 3rd.

Draco ran his fingers through his hair one last time before grabbing the single red rose that he had just bought. He had just made it on time. Crabbe, Goyle, their wives, and all their snotty children had only left the house two hours ago. He winked at his reflection and less than a second later appeared on Granger's front step. He knocked and waited.

Hermione jumped when she heard knocking coming from her door. Since when did he feel the need to knock? She shrugged it off and answered the door.

Draco smiled as his fiancée opened the door, looking, he was pleased to notice, exceptionally well. She was wearing black dress robes lined with teal-blue and had her hair up. Those two perfect lips of hers were smiling back.

"Where are we going?" she asked after a few seconds. Draco caught his breath. He had been staring at her so hard that the question caught him off guard.

"Oh, I think you'll be very pleased. Tonight just so happens to be the Ministry's annual ball."

"On a Thursday?" she asked, grinning.

Draco shrugged. "Don't ask. Anyway, I had to pull a few strings to get us tickets, but we're going."

"I've never heard of any sort of Ministry Ball before," she said, thoughtfully.

"Well," he said, slipping his arm around her waist and feeling her tense up only slightly, "it's very high society. Only the ministry's most important members and supporters can get in. My parents go every year."

She raised an eyebrow. "In other words, anyone who's rich, famous, or important?"

He paused and gave her a quizzical look. "What makes you say that?"

She shrugged. "How do we get there?"

"Floo," he said, gesturing back inside. He followed her in and gave her the address and she disappeared from sight. He rejoined her, willing himself not to cough. There was a fairly long line at the door and they slid into it behind the head of the Games and Magical Sports department and her husband.

"Draco? Hermione?" Predictable, Draco thought, as he turned to face Albus Dumbledore. The old man had, apparently, just slipped into line behind him, with, oddly enough, Professor McGonagall.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Granger shouted happily, giving the old man a quick hug. "It's so good to see you! And you too, Professor," she said, giving McGonagall a cheerful nod.

"Likewise, dear girl, likewise," Dumbledore said, jovially. Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, looked less pleased with the situation, if not stressed.

"So the rumors are true then?" she asked, looking from Draco to Granger, and then finally to the ring on Granger's hand. Draco had to take it back. This confrontation was more uncomfortable for him than any previously, even with her parents. What was worse was that Dumbledore had the power to take her away from him if she only asked.

"As a matter of fact, they are," Granger replied, smiling so sincerely he could have kissed her for it. Either she was exceptionally dumb and didn't realize that this was her chance to escape him forever, or she was actually looking forward to the marriage. He slid his hand into hers and gave it a squeeze.

"Hm," McGonagall said, looking more surprised than skeptical, as he would have imagined. "And your parents are okay with this?"

"You could almost say that it was our idea." Draco turned again to find his parents strolling toward them. He noticed both Dumbledore and McGonagall stiffen. "Children, what are you standing here for? You're Malfoys, you don't need to stand in line," his father said with what Draco could almost describe as a sniff.

"Right you are, Father. Excuse us," Draco said, steering Granger out of the line and straight through the doors, merely flashing his tickets as he did so. The room was barely lighted and a live band was playing in the corner.

"Your father just called me a Malfoy!" Granger stammered in pure disbelief.

"I know, I could hardly believe it myself," Draco said, eyeing her seriously. "I wonder what story they're going to tell Dumbledore..."

"I don't know. I can't believe that they would tell them the truth..."

"Hermione?"

She looked up with surprise. "Yes?"

"When you told McGonagall that we really are engaged, you looked almost..."

"Almost what?"

"Like you love me," he whispered, eyes searching hers. Her face faltered. "Do you want to dance?" he asked, in the same hushed voice.

"Of course," she said slowly. He took her right hand and placed his on the small of her back, guiding her about the room. The song ended a minute or so later, to be replaced with an even faster one.

"Want something to drink?" he asked, noticing that she looked about as winded as he felt. They found a table on the other side of the room with everything from punch to butterbeer to champagne.

"Actually," she said, as he handed her a drink, "I haven't eaten anything yet."

"A problem that can easily be remedied." He led her through a door into a fully illuminated room in which dinner was being served. They sat down and ordered, and a moment or so later they were served.

"Mind if we join you?" it was Dumbledore and McGonagall again.

"Go right ahead," Granger said, beaming at them. The two aging professors sat down alongside her. The fear that had temporarily been subsided rose up once again in Draco. What had his parents said?

"You know, I've heard about the Malfoy Marriage Contract before this, but I had never seen the direct results up until now," Dumbledore said, helping himself to a pork chop.

Draco's jaw dropped. "You knew?" he asked.

"Oh, certainly my boy. If I'm not mistaken, this seems to have turned into a blessing in disguise." All members of the party had their heads turned toward Dumbledore, intrigued.

"Albus, would you mind elaborating for us?" McGonagall asked, blinking curtly.

"Of course. You see, despite the fact that this marriage is unfair to both Draco and Hermione, I believe that the repercussions are actually quite interesting. In what other circumstance would they have been able to put their differences aside and allow themselves to fall in love with Lucius Malfoy's blessing? It's a way for old rivalries to be put aside and new, deeper bonds to be created. Although, there is always the possibility that I'm simply being an old ding bat and have no idea what I'm saying." Draco looked at his old headmaster curiously. Were they both wearing their hearts on their sleeves to the point that this old man could confidently accuse them of falling in love? It seemed true enough about Granger, but him as well?

Dumbledore continued to eat his pork chop, asking Professor McGonagall for a dance as soon as they were finished. "Draco," Granger said, as soon as the two professors were out of earshot, "I've been thinking about how your father called me a Malfoy."

"What of it?" he asked.

"You remember when I asked you about anyone who's rich, famous, or important being invited to this ball?" Draco nodded, knowing where she was headed. "It's as if marrying into the Malfoy family suddenly inducts me into that ranking. Doesn't that seem a little... odd?"

Draco sighed. "Politics can work in strange ways." He took her hand into his and gently polished the diamond on her ring with his thumb. "Come," he said, kissing the back of her hand and getting up, "let's go dance a bit more." He led her out to the dance floor again and they started waltzing. A little later the music changed and he realized it was time for a slow dance. "You game?" he asked. As an answer he found her head resting on his shoulder. Her delicately scented hair was mere inches from his nose as they slowly circled the three-foot wide spot they were in. Across the floor a little ways, his parents were dancing as well. His father gave him an appraising look and a nod of approval. Once again Draco sang the praises of the Malfoy Marriage Contract. Just as Dumbledore had said, in any other circumstance his father would be flashing death in his eyes. Speaking of whom, his father turned his head in his direction again. This time he was mouthing something, which distinctly looked like, "kiss her." Well, no point in disobeying a direct order... Draco cocked Granger's head up and looked deeply into her eyes before setting his lips against hers. He was pleased to find a complete lack of resistance, but rather an almost intense willingness. There was no doubt in his mind that this marriage was going to work.

End Notes:

We're getting close to my favorite chapter, number 17...


	16. Bridal Showers

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 16-Bridal Showers

By M-Fever

Hermione stood rather awkwardly in the center of the room as her shower guests did pretty much the same. "It's Hermione, isn't it?" Daphne, whose last name was now Nott, asked.

"Er, yes, that's right," Hermione said with a nod.

"I may be mistaken, but, er, aren't you a muggleborn?" she asked in a nervous manner. Hermione nodded. "Huh... Well isn't that interesting? Excuse me." She walked fairly quickly to the other side of the room. Parvati and Lavender took this as a cue to speak to her next.

"Hello, Hermione, how are you?" Parvati asked in a falsely cheerful voice.

"Well, good, I suppose. I am, er, getting married," she replied.

"That is good, isn't it? But, er, Hermione? Since when are you and," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "Malfoy an item?"

"Well," she began but then jumped about a foot in the air. Malfoy had suddenly Apparated beside her. Since when could he Apparate here?

"Hello, darling," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and giving her a kiss on the cheek. Lavender and Parvati's jaws dropped. Across the room, Daphne looked almost sick with disgust.

"How'd you do that?" Hermione asked, suddenly feeling elated by his presence. She had never been a very selfish person, but the looks on everyone's faces were priceless.

"Do what? Kiss you? That was easy. I just puckered up and went like this." He kissed her cheek a second time, lingering a moment longer.

"No, Apparate here, silly," she said, blushing heavily.

"Oh, that... I guess I never fully explained. It's only non-family members that can't Apparate here. Once we're married, you'll be able to as well." He noticed Lavender and Parvati, apparently, for the first time. "Good afternoon, ladies." He had both arms wrapped around her middle now, standing behind her.

"Hello, er, Draco. We were just asking Hermione..."

"How we ended up together?" he finished. "Complicated really, but for the sake of argument, let's just say it was her unbelievable charm." He brushed a bit of her hair that had been stuck to his face out of the way.

"Well, congratulations," Lavender said, looking as if she were still stifling a gag. "Oh, look, there's Susan, haven't talked to her in awhile." They both scuttled off, leaving the couple by themselves.

Hermione started giggling. "What?" Malfoy asked, turning to her.

"I was actually sort of hoping you'd show up," she said, still smiling.

"So Miss-Perfect isn't so perfect after all? Couldn't resist showing me off in front of all of these ladies with such poor misfortune to already be married?"

Hermione bit her lip. He was right on the nose with that one. "So, what are you doing here anyway?"

"I'm an excellent judge of character. I figured that you'd like to have me strut my stuff," he said, grinning. "And stop biting your lip, darling, you've got me to do that," he added, grinning even more broadly.

Hermione blushed crimson. Part of her wanted to slap him and the other part wanted him to hurry up and actually do the thing. She settled on trying to deflate his ego. "Er, yeah, right... Come on, there's still another two hours left of this silly shindig."

He gave her a wink and took her hand, slowly making their rounds. Half an hour later, Mrs. Malfoy announced that lunch was being served, at which point she shooed her son away, telling him that this was for women only. It was only after a very long luncheon, a few cheesy bridal shower games, and a bothersome gift exchange that Hermione was able to leave and look forward to her real bridal shower with her family.

...

One week later, Hermione was at her second bridal shower. Ginny had seen to it that Mr. and Mrs. Granger's home had been fixed up accordingly and that all of her relatives and muggle friends had been invited.

"I can't believe our little Hermikins is getting married!" Hermione's Aunt Trudy exclaimed, giving her a pat on the back. "Tell us all about him, dear!"

"Well," Hermione started, "his name is Draco Malfoy... which is a weird name, I know. I went to school with him and we met up a while back and started dating," she finished lamely.

"What's he look like?" her cousin Louise asked. She was about two years younger than Hermione and would have been an exact photocopy of her if it weren't for the fact that her hair was dirty-blond.

Hermione glanced at Ginny. "He's blond, fair-skinned..."

"A real looker!" her mother piped in.

Louise laughed but almost immediately frowned at the look on Hermione's face. "What, don't you agree?"

"Well, yes, he is very handsome..." Hermione started.

"Then what was that weird look for?" Louise pressed on.

Hermione was feeling more and more uncomfortable by the minute. "I guess you could say that I'm still in denial about his looks." Louise made a motion with her hand for her to explain. "He, er, used to be very mean to me back at school. I spent a lot of time trying not to notice his looks, you know?"

To her amusement, Louise started chuckling. "It's like he was the boy from grade school that picked on you and the adults always said it was because he likes you! Do you remember that, Mum?" she asked, turning to Trudy.

"Oh yes, little Mattie Ferguson. He used to torment you to no end, all just to make you notice him."

Hermione's mouth hung open slightly. This certainly was not the same sort of situation, but still... how had that thought never crossed her mind before? It was a very common situation. There were many books and muggle movies that concerned just that sort of relationship. Was it at all possible that Malfoy had actually, in some weird unconscious way, treated her worse than other muggleborns because he liked her? Or was it simply because she was better at lessons and was friends with Harry? A very interesting idea indeed...

"Why isn't his mother here?" her cousin Alice piped in. She was a year older than Hermione and had very straight, brown hair that had always made Hermione slightly envious.

"Oh, it's funny, but she actually threw me another shower last week. We had a bit of a dispute over the, er, location," she lied, "so here we are." She gestured to the room at large. Ginny gave her a look, but everyone else accepted her explanation.

"How about some cake?" her mother asked after a lull in the conversation. She went into the kitchen and came back with a large white cake with "Hermione and Draco" written across it.

"That really is an interesting name," Penelope said, now even larger around the middle than before. "It really makes me wonder what his parents must be like to name him after such a dreadful person."

"Oh," Hermione said, "they're just peachy... They probably named him after a dragon more so, I'd think."

"I've changed my mind by the way, I'm not going to name this one," she pointed to the lump in her stomach, "Amy, after all. Harry and I were discussing it and we've decided to call her Lily, after her grandmother."

"Speaking of children," Hermione's mother began, "are you planning on having any, Hermione? Ever since you introduced him to us, I've been having visions of the most adorable grandchildren..."

"Er," Hermione said, starting to wish that the party was over already, "I think so." To her horror, her mother got up and fetched her baby pictures and started passing them around.

"Now just imagine that, only with blond hair. Positively beautiful..."

"How sweet! Hermione's playing with an encyclopedia in this one!" Alice said, waving around a picture of Hermione when she was about three.

"I found a naked one!" Trudy cried, before Hermione tugged it out of her hand.

"That's enough of that, thank you!" she said, gathering up the rest of the pictures. "I think I'm ready to call it a night. I'll come and spend the night on Thursday, okay Mum? Draco wants me to come to his parent's house on Christmas."

"That's fine dear. Good night!"

End Notes:

Ha ha, I kind of hit the ball on the nose with Harry naming his daughter Lily. (Though I'm certainly not the only one in fandom to do that.)


	17. Odd Tidings

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 17-Odd Tidings

By Marmalade Fever

Hermione woke early Christmas morning to an odd sound. It seemed familiar, yet she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She opened her eyes and blinked groggily at the foot of her bed. She couldn't help but gasp. A fluffy orange kitten was sitting amongst a pile of wrapped parcels, blinking large blue eyes at her. "Where did...?" she began, before bending over and reading an inscription on its tag. "To Hermione, Love Draco." She couldn't help but smile as she cuddled the tiny orange furball. He'd gotten her a kitten! And a near spitting image of good old Crookshanks, no less! Poor Crookshanks had already been around ten-years-old when she had gotten him in her third year. She had had to bury him two years before. The kitten curled up into a ball and started to purr and she reluctantly turned to the rest of her gifts. She opened a package from Harry, which was revealed to be a book on self-defense. "In case the great git tries something," he had written on the tag. Ron, apparently, had been thinking in much of the same way and had gotten her a book on marriage law. She set the two books aside and opened a box from her parents that held a couple new sweaters. A box of mince meat pies from Mrs. Weasley, a few more presents from her parents, and a set of dress robes from Ginny and her pile of presents was all but gone. Wedged between the foot of her bed and the board was one last, very tiny box. She opened it and found a dazzling set of diamond earrings from Malfoy. Two presents from him! And now she had three, count them, three, diamonds! She was starting to feel downright spoiled. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her door.

"Hermione, dear," her mother said, sticking her head in, "Draco's here for you... Is that a cat?" The woman rushed forward and started petting the fuzzy orange kitten, which had nearly fallen asleep. Outside the door, Malfoy knocked and stuck his head in.

"Good, she got here, then?" he asked, coming in and also starting to pet the newest member of the family.

"Thank you, Draco!" Hermione said, giving him a quick hug. "How'd you know that I like cats?"

"I wasn't completely oblivious to you, you know. If Longbottom had been a girl, I'd have gotten her a toad." He shook his head and shivered at the thought.

"Thank you for these too," Hermione continued, ignoring his odd statement about a female Neville and holding up the earrings.

He shrugged, "What's a loaded fiancé for?"

"Oh, you two! You're just so cute together!" Hermione's mother exclaimed, pinching either of their cheeks with her hands. "What would you like for breakfast? I have a scone mix that I've been dying to try out."

"That sounds great, Mum. And thank you for the great gifts you got me as well."

"Not a problem, dear! I really appreciated that cook book you got me; I'll have to try that plum pudding recipe out some time." The woman bustled out of the room, leaving the young couple, and their cat, alone.

"So... what do you think you'll name it?" Malfoy asked, referring to the, once again, sleeping fur ball.

"Hmm, maybe Marmalade," Hermione said, thoughtfully.

"Couldn't have thought of a better name for an orange cat myself," he replied, smiling. He noticed the window. "It's snowing again," he said.

"A white Christmas! Lovely!" Hermione said, standing up and looking out the window as well. "Maybe we can make snow-angels later."

"Alright, lunch is being served at the manor at one o'clock. Maybe after that. But for now, how about we go help with breakfast?"

"You are too perfect," Hermione said, poking him on the nose. "Come on, Marmalade, dear, let's find you some milk." She scooped up the kitten and led the way into the kitchen, where Mrs. Granger was plopping dough onto a cookie sheet. Hermione got out a saucer and poured a little milk onto it and set it down for the kitten to lap up, which she did.

"Hey kids," Mr. Granger said, coming out and checking the clock. "By George, it's only 7:30! Why are you even awake?" He suddenly noticed the kitten about a footstep away from where he had been walking. "How cute!" he said, sitting down and teasing it.

"Maybe you two would like to baby-sit while I'm at the Malfoy's?" Hermione asked, watching her father dip and raise his handkerchief in front of the "baby," which made good use of its claws.

"No problem, honey," her father replied, thoroughly preoccupied.

"The scones will be ready in fifteen minutes," her mother said, closing the oven door. Hermione excused herself to go get dressed. It made no sense to put on her nice clothes yet, not when she was just going to go play in the snow, anyway. Instead she put on a sweater and a pair of jeans, and rejoined the rest of the household for scones. After breakfast, they pampered the kitten for a while. At ten o'clock, Hermione and Malfoy said good-bye to her parents and headed over to the Malfoy Manor.

"It really is beautiful when it snows," Hermione said, taking a deep breath as they walked across the gigantic field of a yard.

"You know what else is great about snow?" Malfoy asked.

"It makes excellent insulation?"

"Er, not quite what I had in mind... I was going to say that it packs well!" With that, he threw a snowball at her, hitting her lightly on the shoulder.

"I can't believe you just did that!" With that said, she grabbed a handful of snow herself and threw it at him. It was all-out war in less than a minute. They ended up collapsing on the snow after a good quarter hour's worth of fighting. "Time for that snow angel!" Hermione said, spreading her hands and legs and pushing against the snow. She stood to look at her handiwork.

"Positively ethereal," Malfoy commented, looking not at the snow angel but instead at her. She felt herself blush, but maybe it was only because of the cold. "Your hands must be freezing!" he added. He took them up in his hands and rubbed them. "Let's get you inside." He led the way to the house and into the entryway.

"Here so soon, Draco?" Lucius Malfoy asked, peeking into the room. His eyes alighted on Hermione and sent a chill down her back. "Happy Christmas," he added, more as a statement than as a wish.

"Happy Christmas to you as well," Hermione said, with only the faintest trace of a smile.

"Out and about in the snow, were you?" he asked, stepping closer and actually picking a snowflake out of her hair.

(pov change...)

Draco unconsciously stepped closer to Granger. Honestly, what was his father accusing them of? It was freezing outside, after all. "Hermione," he said slowly, "why don't you go change into your dress robes? Here, I'll show you where to go." He took her by the arm, keeping his father in eye contact, and led her to the nearest bathroom. Draco returned to where he had left his father, in the entryway.

"I say, Draco, that little mudblood of yours seems to be complying quite well. I had my doubts early on, but you seem to be manipulating her perfectly," his father said, in the air of someone discussing their fingernails.

"I wouldn't exactly use the word 'manipulation' to describe it myself," Draco said, slowly.

"Really? What would you call it then?" the elder man asked, still in his almost too casual tone.

Draco stopped to think. "Courting, wooing, something along those lines..."

A sort of smirk traveled onto his father's face. "You don't think there's a difference son? In my mind there is no difference between manipulating someone into thinking that they are in love and the real thing. Especially in situations such as these."

"And what if she really is in love with me? What then?" There was a fine line between intriguing his father and angering him, and Draco was always careful not to cross it. He knew that he was getting dangerously close in this discussion.

The smirk steadily turned into a sneer. "Then you have only done a better job in your manipulation. The real question at hand is what happens when you find that you have manipulated your own heart? Be careful, son, women are very powerful when they manage to wrap a man around their little finger. Be sure not to let this happen. You are a Malfoy and always will be. She is wrought from a muggle heritage. Keep this in mind while you do your 'wooing.'" Draco followed his father into the spacious living room on the next floor, complete with a fifteen foot Christmas tree.

"Draco, darling!" His mother had been lounging on a couch reading what looked like a romance novel, but on closer inspection was actually his own "autobiography." She carefully placed the book aside and gave her son an almost weak embrace. "And where is the little lady?" she asked, after having separated herself from her son.

"She's changing into her dress robes. She should be up in a minute. Meanwhile, it would be best for me to do so as well."

"Well, then, hurry back, darling," his mother said, carefully reclining on the couch again as Draco left the room. He made his way to his old bedroom where he kept several changes of robes handy. By the time he came back to the living room, he found that Granger hadn't managed to find her way there, and so went looking for her. He found her at last in a hallway on the first floor, staring avidly at a long line of portraits.

"I'm glad you found me, I was starting to worry that I'd fall down a trick staircase or something," she said, giving him a smile. He couldn't help but notice that she was wearing new robes, in that she looked positively stunning. They were mostly black except for the bodice and sleeves, which had an auburn leaf print. "Who is this?" she asked, pointing to an oil-painting of a young girl with blond hair and a gloomy expression.

"That's my great, great, great aunt Beatrice Malfoy. She died about a year after that was painted."

"What happened?" she asked, clearly intrigued.

"Broom accident, and thank you so much for bringing up that painful subject, brown-haired Mudblood!" the portrait scoffed, before stalking away. Granger rolled her eyes.

"She does have a point you know, none of these portraits have anyone without blond hair," she said, gazing down the wall.

"Don't let that bother you. There have been plenty of Malfoys by marriage without blond hair. Even my mother, naturally, has more of an amber shade of hair. Don't let her know I told you that, though, I'm not partial to being skinned alive." He gave her a grin. He proceeded to point out more of his ancestors' portraits to her and even showed her the expansive library on the fifth floor. When lunch time came they had to hurry to get back to the dining room on time.

"Fashionably late, I see," his mother said, as they arrived at the dinner table. "Sit down, you two. The house-elves have already laid out the feast." She gestured to the twelve course meal on the table. Draco noticed a slightly troubled look on Granger's face.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, as they sat.

"Oh, it's nothing really..." she said, sounding as if she were trying to hide something.

"Is that so?" he asked, eyeing her.

"Well," she said, after a moments' consideration, "do you remember ever hearing about something called S.P.E.W.?"

"Spew?" Draco asked, almost coughing from a sudden urge to laugh. He had only a vague memory of her trying to get others to join an eccentric club to support house-elf rights. She had made pins and everything!

"Draco!" his mother scolded. "Don't say such nasty words at the dinner table! And on Christmas no less!"

"Sorry, Mother," he muttered quickly. "And yes, I do remember."

"Then you know exactly what's wrong," she said, sounding as if she were trying not to let his parents into the conversation, and he quite agreed. He didn't need his parents knowing that he was marrying a house-elf rights activist! How much more absurd could you get?

"What is this?" his father asked, looking up from piling mashed potatoes on his plate. Drat. Figured that it wouldn't work.

"Oh, just a little club I started at school, that' s all," she said, in a bored voice.

"What sort of club? Was it a ladies' social of some sort?" his mother asked, looking interested.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. Really, it wasn't anything of real importance... Would someone pass me the cranberries, please?" she said hurriedly, desperately trying to change the topic.

"What does S.P.E.W. stand for?" his father pressed on, cocking an eyebrow.

"Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," she said, so quickly that it was a wonder that her tongue was still in place. Rather than looking troubled as Draco would have guessed, his father actually looked, what was it, amused? "But of course I didn't grow up with house-elves, so it took a long time for me to understand the entire, er, situation," she added, still amazingly fast.

"Very well, Miss Granger," the elder Malfoy said with a faint trace of a grin in place, "no need to hide past mistakes in political views from us... So long as you don't go around handing every one of our remaining servants articles of clothing, we'll call it even." He continued to eat a large portion of ham.

"So, Draco," his mother asked, "what did you get for Christmas? You got our presents, I presume?"

"Oh, yes, Mother, and thank you. I'll be sure to wear that new cloak all season," he said.

"What did Hermione get you, dear?" his mother pressed.

"A quill and ink set with an anti-wrist cramp charm," he said. He was still a little puzzled by the gift.

"Oh! Does this mean you're going to continue with your writing, dear?" And suddenly the puzzlement cleared and he understood. It was just like his mother to not realize that he hadn't written the infernal book, himself. Obviously Granger was trying to persuade him to try writing something for real. Not a bad idea actually. Somewhat of a boring idea but not bad.

"I'll have to see how my schedule goes," he said. At the end of the room his attention turned to the sudden appearance of an owl at the window.

"I'll get that," his father said, leaving the table and picking the note off of the owl's leg. He scanned it and his face hardened. "I need to go to my office and take care of this." He walked out of the room, note tucked carefully into his pocket. Draco frowned. His father always seemed to leave right in the middle of family events.

"More wine, either of you?" his mother asked, offering a bottle. He poured himself a glass, but Granger refused. Lunch wore on and they ate pudding. "I'm going to have a little lie down," his mother said, looking sleepy, if not slightly nauseous. She left the room.

"Want to go for a walk? I could show you a bit more of the library," Draco asked, standing up slowly.

"That would be nice," Granger commented. They walked in contented silence to the library.

"There are a few books here that I thought you might like to read. They're rather rare, so I don't think you could even get them at your job at Flourish and Blotts." He picked a rather large tome off of one of the shelves and handed it to her.

"The Lifestyle of British Squibs, 1883," she read. "No, don't think I've run across that one before. She flipped through it, pausing at a picture of a man being attacked by a crup.

"Hermione," Draco said tentatively, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"Hmm?" she asked, closing the book and turning to him.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look today?" he asked, carefully moving his hand so that it was at the base of her neck.

"No." There was a slight trickle of fear in her voice.

"Well, you do," he said, taking her hand in his free one. He gently stroked her cheek. "Would you mind terribly if I kissed you?" Without waiting for an answer, he moved in closer to her, so that they were scarcely an inch apart. He moved his lips to the corner of her mouth, starting out slowly before abruptly changing pace. Over her mouth and down her chin and up again, his hands exploring her mass of hair. He felt her slowly giving in and actually kissing him back, until she was practically melting in his arms. He lowered himself so that they were sitting on the floor. He moved lightly to the base of her neck before returning to those two perfect lips of hers, forgetting any need for oxygen. Her hair crunched in his hands and he brought a chunk of it to his nose, breathing in her perfect scent of perfume.

"Sir?" Drat! What was it now? He reluctantly released his fiancée and turned his head to glare at the pipsqueak of a house-elf cowering at the end of the room. "Sir's father is wanting him to come to his study, sir," the elf said, its knees knocking together.

"I'll be back soon, my love," Draco breathed, before getting to his knees and then to his feet. He saw her fall back in a sort of dazed swoon and he blew her a kiss before following the house-elf out the door. Whatever this was had to be important or there would be consequences. He marched into his father's office and sat down. "Yes, Father?"

"Draco," the elder man said, with a scowl and then suddenly a grin, "I have just received exciting news."

"Which would be?" He was in a terrible hurry to get back to what he had been doing only seconds before. Why couldn't this have waited?

"Patience, Draco, patience," his father scolded. "I have just been speaking to my dear old friend Geldrin Gonningham who has connections at St. Mungo's. A patient has just been admitted that, if I do say so myself, will be of utmost interest to you."

Well this was boring. Being dragged from a good snogging session for what? Health news? "Go on," he said reluctantly.

"Miss Antoine Bellover has been recovered." His father waited as if this was supposed to mean something to him.

"So?" he asked, getting more and more irritated by the second.

"So, Draco, you now have a new bride." The look of satisfaction on the man's face was frightening to behold.

"What?" Draco asked flatly. The man was obviously off his rocker. No one else fit the specifications! He'd said so himself.

"Now Draco, don't you remember my mentioning that one of your potential fiancees was, quote, 'frozen in a tundra?'" And that was when the lights popped on in his head.

"THAT WAS HER!" He was about ready to have a coronary.

"A team of muggle explorers managed to dig her out, and the Ministry was able to recover her from them. Her father was a good friend of mine at Hogwarts and would be more than happy to marry her off to you, especially since he hasn't a knut to his name."

"And what about Hermione?" Hermione... Hermione... what was he bloody supposed to do about Hermione? And since when did he call her that? She was Granger, the Mudblood of all mudbloods. Not Hermione, of all things!

"I see it as quite simple. You just need to break-up. Stage it however you like," he said it as if it were really that simple. "Antoine will be out of the hospital by New Years day. I've scheduled you to meet her then, so I trust you'll have everything sorted out with that mudblood wench of yours by then."

Draco stormed from his father's office, thoughts fleeting through his head at lightning speed. Somehow he managed to make it back to the library and tentatively walked in, determined to say something that would blow her away. He found her sitting on a couch by the fire, from where she beckoned him to join her. There was a long moment of silence before she at last spoke. "Draco," she said slowly, looking into his eyes, and he found it hard to return the look, "I think I..." she took a big breath, "I just wanted to tell you that, that I love you..." For all he knew his face was stonily empty of emotion, but then... she was leaning in. She was going to kiss him for a change. For a moment, just a moment, he thought he'd let her, but then the world came whirling back at full force and just as her lips touched his he grabbed her wrist and pushed her away.

"GET OFF ME, MUDBLOOD!" he yelled. She looked too surprised by the statement to react.

"Excuse me?" she said at last.

"I said, get off me!" he hissed.

"Why?" Her face was hardened with anger and confusion.

"Because," he said slowly, summoning as much drama and ferocity as he could muster, "the wedding is off!" Without even waiting to explain fully, he Apparated away, leaving her quite alone.

Hermione blinked. She mutely stood and made her way out of the library through utter darkness. Somehow she managed to find her way out onto the grounds and to the edge of the property, to Apparate herself back to her own apartment, before letting the tears slide down her face.

End Notes:

Please don't hurt me! About Antoine's name: I actually thought it was a girl's name at the time, but I came up with an excuse for it, so never fear. About the kitten's name: I couldn't resist.


	18. Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 18- Breaking Up is Hard to Do

By Marmalade Fever

Hermione blinked warily at the message that Draco's owl had dropped off several hours before. No matter how many times she read it, the words never seemed to change.

Dear Miss Granger,

We need to talk. The circumstances of our separation must be discussed, along with possibilities on how to publicly announce our disengagement. Come to my house tomorrow at your earliest convenience.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

That was it. Not even the faintest clue about why they were no longer getting married. (Or an apology, for that matter.) She couldn't even imagine how it might be possible... not that she cared. It had been stupid of her to tell him that she loved him. Love? Him? Of course not! He was an arrogant, self centered jerk! She'd merely been infatuated, caught up in the moment! And of course it was all for the better. This way she could go on living a normal life. She could now marry whom she pleased and when she pleased. Under no circumstances would that certain somebody be a scumbag like that, either. But boy, all she wanted to do was wring his filthy, little neck! Mudblood indeed! She'd show him! She sent her fist pounding onto her coffee table, sending her tea cup crashing onto the floor in a large, wet mess of tea leaves and china. Marmalade, who had been sitting on her lap, leaped off and ran full speed out of the way. She stamped her foot in frustration. See what he'd made her do? That had been her best tea cup! She grudgingly went to get a towel to wipe up the mess on her floor.

...

Meanwhile, Draco was not faring any better. He had calmed down to a point where he was able to think clearly. There was much work to be done. Switching wives-to-be was no easy task. It took a lot of careful planning and timing, something that gave him the same sort of head-ache that he got while playing chess. He wasn't sure who he wished to curse more: his ancestors for writing the insanely idiotic contract in the first place, his father for being so darn picky, himself for coming up with the entire courting and love idea, Hermione (Drat, he'd told himself not to call her that!) for going along with it, or Antoine Bellover for being stupid enough to get herself frozen in a tundra!

Perhaps most irritating of all was that he now had a song stuck in his head. He had thought that playing some of that muggle music, the Bugs or whatever the name was, would help to relax him. Instead one of the songs had gotten completely imbedded into his psyche. Worse, he didn't even know all the lines! He hated that. It went something like, "Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it seems that they are here to stay, oh I believe in yesterday. Yesterday, love didn't seem so far away, la la la, the games we play, oh I believe in yesterday. Why she had to go, I don't know, she wouldn't say. I said something wrong, now I know it was yesterday..." He was quite sure he had the words wrong, especially the "la la la" part. Something about the song made him feel guilty about how he had reacted a few scant hours earlier when Hermione, (Granger, not Hermione, Granger! Honestly, two syllables should be easier than four!) had told him that she loved him. Stupid muggle music with its catchy lyrics and melodies.

Anyway, he had sent her a note asking to meet to discuss how to make the breakup official to the public. At the time, the whole proposal in the restaurant bit had seemed like a stroke of genius, now it was coming back to bite him in the bud.

...

Boxing Day was a frigid one. Both members of the former couple sat silently in the living room of Draco's home. He hadn't said anything yet besides, "follow me." At last Hermione broke the silence. "Are you going to explain the situation or not?"

"I guess I might as well," Draco spat back. "It seems you are no longer the only candidate in the entire world to whom I can get married and end this whole irritating ordeal. Antoine Bellover, whose father is a friend of my own, has just made a comeback."

"How do you mean?" Hermione had her arms crossed and was staring pointedly at him.

"Apparently she's been frozen in a tundra and they just now got her out again. She's in St. Mungo's recuperating." Hermione let out a derisive laugh. "That's my fiancée you're laughing at," Draco said, glowering.

"Well excuse me, but as someone who was engaged to you less than twenty-four hours ago, I don't think you should be using that as an argument!" she said with a huff. Draco noticed that she was still wearing his ring... out of habit, he supposed. He didn't care if she kept it, the money was a mere trifle to him, it was the symbol of the ring he cared about, a symbol of... he mentally slapped himself. Finishing that sentence would have been a terrible, careless thing for him to do.

"Well la dee da," he replied at last. If that wasn't a lame comeback, he didn't know what was. Hermione rolled her eyes heavily.

"So what do you propose we do to end this marriage and start you out fresh with the Ice Queen?" she asked. Ice Queen, that was a good one! He wished that he had thought of that one. "And keep in mind," she added, "that I absolutely refuse to participate in any sort of explanation that would make me look vulgar."

"Granger," there, he'd done it, he'd managed to say her surname rather than her first, "you insult me. Honestly, I would never think of blaming the situation on you! After all, the public eye would frown if they thought that I had even gotten engaged to someone without ensuring that she was above such things." It sounded half like a compliment for her and half like a conceited self-appraisal.

"Well thank you for that, at the very least," she said blandly.

"I have already come up with an excellent excuse," Draco continued. "It sheds only the best of light on all three of us. It seems that Antoine and I were already engaged several years ago, but when the accident occurred, I lost all hope. I thought I could never love again, until I ran into you. Then when I heard that she was all right, you, out of the goodness of your heart, told me to marry her instead!"

Hermione opened her mouth as if to object to something before snapping it closed again. "That's good... that's very good, actually. But how are you going to fix it so that her story coincides with yours?"

"I already have the top in the field working on it."

"Memory charms?"

"When necessary." He leaned back with his arms behind his head in satisfaction. Hermione sneezed rather abruptly. "Bless you," he said, automatically. "Catching a cold?"

"Yes, and I might add that if I am, you probably are, too." She raised her eyebrow in a pointed way. He didn't understand at first.

"Oh yes, our little battle of lips yesterday. How these things do tend to slip one's mind." For the first time since he had been called to his father's office, he actually permitted himself to smile.

"I knew it!" Hermione had stood up, looking suddenly triumphant.

"Knew what?" he asked, frowning.

"You are such a hypocrite! Between kissing me like that, calling me that vile name for trying to kiss you, and smiling at the memory of kissing me, you, sir, are a hypocrite! Obviously, my blood can't mean that much to you if you don't mind my body."

"If you wanted me to apologize for calling you that last night, then why didn't you just say so?" he asked, sounding like her statement hadn't meant a thing. She was right though, it was very hypocritical of him.

"I don't want an apology. Goodness knows you were in denial, and that was it."

"Denial?" he asked, eyebrow arched.

"You permitted yourself to fall in love with me, Draco Malfoy. When your father told you that it was all over, all for the sake of stupid blood purity, you suddenly were torn between your past beliefs and your recent revelations. The truth is, you didn't want it to end. You wanted to believe that you were happy about the new situation, so you put on that face instead, and that was the face that enjoys tormenting scum of human beings, like me. In fact, I can vouch for it. Just last night, I was in denial myself. I told myself that this was all for the better, that now I could marry whoever I wanted. I tried to deny that I had been honest to myself when I said I loved you. You know what though? I was wrong. I think I do love you and that you feel exactly the same way I do. So go ahead, stage our break-up, woo the Ice Queen, because I'll be waiting. I know that sooner or later, you're going to come running back to me! To quote Eliza Doolittle, 'just you wait!'" she stood erect and walked straight out of the room, head held high.

Draco just sat there, staring. He was so not in denial! He was the complete opposite of denial! He was annoyed by the situation, but that was it! Why wouldn't anyone believe him? He banged his head against the arm of his couch several times. He hated her, really! And that was when the sneezing started. He pried himself off of the couch and into his bathroom to the medicine cabinet. He took a dose of pepper-up potion, waited for the steam to subside, and went to lie down. It was only after a nap that he found a pair of diamond earrings sitting in a small box in his entryway.


	19. The Ice Queen Cometh

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 19-The Ice Queen Cometh

By Marmalade Fever

New Years Day found Draco Malfoy at his parents' house awaiting the arrival of Antoine Bellover. His mother sat beside him while his father stood across the room, leaning leisurely against the piano. "I must say, Draco," he said, "I am very pleased with your work on switching brides to be. This plan of yours is pure genius."

"Thank you, Father," Draco said, though he didn't look or feel especially happy from the praise. He had sunk into a state of indifference. Frankly, he didn't feel like he even cared what Antoine Bellover was like. He had spent too much time trying to ensure a happy marriage already to make the same effort. He really just wanted to marry and get on with his life.

"Here they come now," his father said, crossing to the window and spotting two lone figures in the snow. Draco looked as well, noting that one of them was heavily wrapped and the other had his wand out in an effort to keep the first from overexertion.

"Lucius, I really think that you should have let them floo in, the poor girl has been through quite an ordeal," his mother commented.

"Have you ever tried to adjust the floo network during the holidays, Narcissa? It would have been too much of a bother." The two figures had at last made it into the expansive house. "To your feet, Draco, these are your in-laws, after all."

Draco reluctantly stood, still scowling. He continued to do so until the tiny house-elf of theirs announced his bride-to-be and her father. He crossed his arms and waited. First came an elderly man of around sixty-five. This was obviously Mr. Bellover. He looked slightly familiar, but Draco highly doubted that he had ever been a Death-Eater. He had an unshaven look to him and watery eyes. He gave a slight nod to everyone before beckoning his daughter into the room.

For some odd reason, Draco had thus far imagined Antoine to be a tall, blonde, tan air-head with more fashion sense than anything. Instead, the girl who entered the room was only one of the above. She had slightly wavy blond hair and was about five foot four. Her appearance, however, would suggest anything but an airhead. She wore a pair of glasses and, beneath the many layers of cloaks, wore a simple pair of black robes. She was only wearing the most minimal amount of make-up, too. She approached his father and stuck out her hand, "Mr. Malfoy?" Her voice, though sounding slightly out-of-breath, also sounded perfectly intelligent. In short, Draco realized with pain, she seemed very nearly like Hermione.

"It's very nice to meet you, Miss Bellover," his father replied, shaking her hand. "May I introduce you to my son, Draco?" He led her by the hand to Draco, who shook as well. Her hand, he noted, was nearly ice-cold. He permitted himself to give her a wane smile, which she returned.

"You're feeling well, I hope?" Draco asked, after they were seated.

"About as well as anyone could be after being frozen for two years," she said, adding a small, nervous laugh. Draco noticed that she was shaking ever so slightly. Poor girl, he couldn't help but think.

"How did that happen, anyway?" he asked.

"Well," she began, "I was doing some research for my lab on magical plants that can withstand subzero temperatures." She's a scientist! Now he'd definitely not been expecting that one. "I found what looked like a cuamcoluar, which is a fern of sorts that sends out shoots that catch snowflakes, but I realized at the last second that it wasn't. It was actually a _fruamcoluar_, which is a fern that sends out shoots that catch prey. I'm afraid that I got a little too close to it. Fruamcoluars are supposed to be tropical, but this one seemed to have a strain of something else in it. I wasn't expecting it to attack me and in my haste my wand snapped. It managed to drag me underground and into its root lair. Luckily, I had packed a small vile of multipurpose weed killer, which I used to keep it from starting its digestive process. Unfortunately though, the sudden shriveling of the roots sent the snow toppling onto me. I would have died except that I had taken a pill that morning just in case an accident like that occurred. It kept me alive, in a frozen state, but alive, nonetheless." Unwittingly, Draco's jaw had dropped. Here he'd been thinking that it had been a holidaying accident or something. This though, this was actually rather impressive. By the looks of it, he wasn't the only one who thought so either.

"You, dear, dear girl!" his mother cooed, coming over to sit next to her.

"That's amazing," his father breathed. Draco thought it was amazing that he would give such high praise to her! "A fruamcoluar in the arctic! Now that is interesting."

"I think so too. As soon as I'm back on my feet, so to speak, I'd like to make a return visit with a team and get a sample to bring back to the lab."

"I'd be very interested in going with you," his father replied. He did indeed look interested at that. The rapt attention that he was giving her made Draco rather uneasy. He cleared his throat. "Oh yes, the matter at hand," his father said, "we are very glad to hear that you have agreed to our conditions about the marriage."

To Draco's delight, Antoine looked like she had swallowed a bug. She turned her head to her own father with such speed that if she had not been thoroughly thawed it could have snapped. "Er," Mr. Bellover said, "I was meaning to mention that to you..."

"You didn't tell her?" Draco's own father said, blinking in a you-better-remember-our-agreement-or-suffer-my-wrath sort of way.

"Well, dear," Mr. Bellover said, turning to his daughter, nervously, "Draco here's in a bit of a gherkin, er, excuse me, a pickle I mean, and needs to get married. So, anyway, I thought that you, er, might be grateful to have the opportunity..."

"What sort of," she held up a few fingers for quotation marks, "'gherkin' are we talking about here?"

Draco tuned out as his father, once again, explained the Malfoy Marriage Contract. "And so you see, that's where you come in."

"And there's no one else? I find that rather hard to believe, especially since you only found out that I was available a week ago, and you certainly don't look like you had been planning a funeral! No offense," she added, giving Draco a look.

"Well, there is one other candidate, but we've found you to be much more suitable," his father answered.

"That seems like a rather rash decision; you hardly even know me!" Her face was puffed up and her father seemed to be praying, with his eyes turned toward the heavens. "Wait a second," she said, eyeing each of them individually, "let me guess... She's muggleborn, isn't she?" No one made any indication to deny her accusation. "In that case, I understand completely." Draco jerked so suddenly he thought he had whip-lash. "Blood purity is very important. As a scientist, I deal with it all the time with my plants. No blood, of course, but their genes. It's just like that fruamcoluar. If it hadn't been crossed, it wouldn't have been able to exist in such conditions. Of course, it is often essential to science to cross-breed plants and come up with newer and better ones. But it is also essential to keep the originals in tact. After all, don't muggles pay much more for purebred dogs than mutts?"

"I agree entirely," Draco's father said, nodding.

"That's exactly what I've always thought!" his mother said, also nodding.

Draco felt a wave of sickness wash over him. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he suddenly felt an intense dislike towards Antoine. The way she was talking, it was as if she viewed the entire human race as animals and nothing more. It didn't even sound like the reason she could understand not wanting to marry a mudblood had to do with prejudice. No, this was something entirely different. Whatever it was, he didn't like it.

"In that case, perhaps an arrangement can be made after all. It's very rare for me to find anyone who understands my views on blood purity," she said. He noticed that her hands were shaking still.

"In that case," his father said, standing, "why don't we leave you two to get to know one another better? Narcissa, Andre, if you'd like to come with me, please?" The three parents ushered themselves out of the room, looking excited about the arrangement. Now it was just the two of them, and the discomfort was so thick it could have been cut with a knife.

"Excuse me just a moment," Antoine said, reaching down and opening a small handbag that was on her lap. She drew out a bottle of pepper-up potion. She took a bit and Draco watched silently as a billow of steam left either of her ears. "That's much better," she said, closing her eyes as if savoring the sudden warmth that flooded her. "I'm supposed to take some every twelve hours for the next three months or so," she explained. "So," she said, noticing his silent observation of her, "tell me about her."

"Who?" Draco asked, heart suddenly thumping ever so slightly faster.

"This other girl that you were engaged to. What was her name? I don't know that many kids who went to Hogwarts; I went to Beauxbatons, myself, but you never know."

"Hermione Granger," he replied, hoping his voice sounded as void of emotions as he hoped.

"No," she said, shaking her head, "I suppose I really only know of Harry Potter."

"I happen to hate his guts," Draco said, so flatly he thought she'd be appalled.

"Well, go on, tell me about this Hermione," she urged, shrugging off the Harry Potter comment.

"She's one of his best friends, Potter's I mean. A real brain..." If he thought that the brain comment would get a rouse out of this other brainy woman, he thought wrong.

"I take it you didn't get along at school?" she asked. Who did she think she was, a psychiatrist?

"To put it lightly. The Golden Trio and I are what you'd call enemies."

"Trio?"

"There are three of them. Potter, Weasley, and Granger."

"Huh," she said slowly, "then I can only imagine how well she took the engagement. How'd you ever convince her?"

"Combination of death threats, and..."

"And?" she asked.

A sense of foreboding was creeping into him. "And trying to make her fall in love with me," he finished.

"It looks like it backfired," she said, smiling in a dangerous way. "You must both be heartbroken." Now she'd done it.

"Excuse me?" Draco asked, crossing his arms and giving her a death-look.

"Judging by your attitude, I think its pretty safe to say that she didn't leave your heart without doing some damage. You say that she's a muggleborn? I think that between that and the old rivalry, it took a lot of wall-breaking to even get the relationship rolling. Now, suddenly, you have to build those walls back up. It's all very interesting, from a scientific stand-point." She sat there, looking smug and cold, with a smarter-than-you look on her face.

"I think you're reading way too much into this," Draco said, lowering his voice to danger level.

"I'll believe you if you can honestly tell me that you have no feelings for her, and let me note that hate is a feeling. I'm a believer in the fine line between love and hate analogy. It's hard to separate the two back out once the drawbridge has been lowered. So tell me, do you have any feelings toward her?"

Why did all of these fiancées have to be so difficult? "I think I made it quite clear that I hold no positive emotions toward her," he said with a huff.

"But emotions none-the-less. Was she attractive?" Didn't she know how far was too far to push a topic?

"In her own plain way, I suppose." He was still giving her that death-glare, but she wasn't backing down!

"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard. Boy and girl hate each other. Boy and girl forced into relationship. Boy and girl forced out of relationship. Boy denies feelings. Girl, well, I wouldn't know."

"Will you get off it already!" He had stood up, brandishing his full height. She'd actually mentioned the denial thing. What was it with women and denial? HE WAS NOT IN DENIAL.

Antoine laughed in triumph. "There, you see? That proves it," she said with a grin. "My, you must really love her."

Draco actually bared his teeth. He was having quite enough of women. At least with men it wasn't considered improper of him to curse them to kingdom come if they pulled a stunt like this. "Are you going to marry me or not?" he said through his teeth.

"Well," she said, still grinning, "despite the fact that I think I'd be doing you a favor by refusing, I really don't think your father would give me the choice. Anyway, you rather amuse me. And what with the fact that you're a pureblood and all, I think I'll have to accept your glorious proposal."

"About bloody time," Draco said, kneading his forehead with his knuckles. He looked up as the door to the room opened and their parents entered.

"Everything settled?" his father asked, looking between them.

"Oh yes, we've come to an agreement," Antoine said, her grin still in place.

"Good, very good," his father said with a nod. "The wedding will be April 1st, here at the manor." Draco jerked suddenly, spilling the tea he had been fondling. "Problem son?"

"Well, no, it's just... Honestly, why are we keeping the same date?" he blurted, allowing his guard to drop.

"No particular reason, but I really don't see what the problem is. Everything is already arranged. Now, I think it's high-time that Andre and Antoine left. I'm sure you could do with some bed-rest?" he asked, turning to Draco's newest fiancee.

"Oh yes, thank you." The two Bellovers rose and left the room. Draco groaned and wished that this whole nightmare would just come to an end.


	20. Diagon Alley

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 20-Diagon Alley

By Marmalade Fever

Draco wandered rather absentmindedly down Diagon Alley, his hands in his pockets. He'd come to try and get away from things, though he wasn't sure why being in a crowd of noisy shoppers would help. His feet traced his old haunts, which inevitably led him into the Quidditch supply store. The place was practically deserted except for a small crowd of nine or ten year-olds who were huddled around a display. Draco moved forward to join them. Hovering inside a glass display case was a sparkly golden broomstick. "Fleeter than any broom made before, the Dream Chaser is fast enough to carry its rider across the Atlantic Ocean in half an hour. Safer than any previous, it is truly the greatest achievement in brooms thus-far." Below was a price that even made Draco gasp for air. That was one expensive broom! A faint jingling sound drew him out of his thoughts. He turned and instantly felt a head-ache coming. In the doorway stood Potter and Weasley. Worse, they had already noticed him. In three strides they crossed the store and stood in front of him. "Excuse me," Draco said, trying to side step them.

"Not so fast," said Potter, stopping him.

"What do you want?" Draco asked, crossing his arms in defeat.

"We wanted to thank you for letting Hermione out of this wedding."

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "No, seriously, what do you want?"

"That's the truth," Weasley said with a smirk.

"Right. Well, it's been a blast. See you." He started to step past them again, but was stopped. "What now?"

"We need to ask you what happened," Potter said.

"Why not just ask her?"

"She's being very evasive. She'll only tell us that your father found someone else. She seems entirely nonplussed. Now why's that?"

"Well, isn't it obvious? She never exactly wanted me to marry her in the first place, now did she?"

"That's not true," Weasley piped in.

"Huh?"

"I mean that she seemed, and still seems, very much in love with you." The look on the Weasel's face told Draco that it was difficult for him to admit.

"Really?" he asked, trying hard to mask the joy on his own face.

"So why isn't this bothering her?" Weasley pressed on.

Draco looked at both of them before sighing. "Because she seems to think that... I love her," he mumbled.

They exchanged a look. "What?" asked Potter.

"That I love her," he repeated.

"And do--" Potter started.

"What's a submarine?" Draco interrupted.

Potter blinked. "What?"

"What's a submarine?" he repeated.

"It's a sort of enclosed boat that goes under water... Er, why?"

"Just wondering... So, how is Hermione, anyway?" He mentally slapped himself for calling her that.

"You," Weasley said, pointing at Draco's chest, "you called her Hermione!"

"It's only common courtesy to call someone you've kissed by their first name." Draco watched happily as his comment caused both men to look ill.

"Oh, gag! Why'd you have to say something like that?" Weasley asked, turning red.

Draco shrugged. "Really, how is she?"

"She's fine," Potter said, still a little green.

"Good..."

"If what you're saying is true, then she's expecting you to go back to her," Potter added, after a pause.

"Which is preposterous! You of all people should know that it's not a good idea to go against my father's wishes." His face fell when he saw a look of sudden comprehension dawn on Weasley's face.

"Wait a second, is that your only reason?" he asked. "You're just afraid of what your Daddy would do to you?"

"Er..." Draco began. Why was there sweat cropping up on his forehead? He had a bad feeling that he had just admitted to something very bad. Potter and the Weasel seemed to take his silence for an answer and exchanged a look of shock.

"He's in love with her!" Potter said at last, looking first dumbstruck and then suddenly as if he were about to laugh. He turned back to Draco and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"But..." Draco said, lifting a finger as if trying to make a point, but he couldn't think of anything. It wasn't exactly like he wanted to marry Antoine. Truth be told, of the two he'd go for Hermione any day, despite blood. There was still the old rivalry to be reckoned with though, right? They couldn't expect him to marry her after all that? But hadn't he spent the last five minutes or so having a perfectly civil conversation with these two?

"See you at the wedding, Malfoy," Potter said, checking his watch. "Shoot, I need to get back to take Pen to the doctor soon." With that, Potter and Weasley left, leaving Draco with his mouth still slightly open.

...

Hermione looked up from cataloguing a stack of Herbology books to find a customer looking somewhat lost. "Hi," the woman said, "can you point me towards Professor Longbottom's book on magical plants in a non-magical garden?" Hermione stood and dusted her knees off.

"Do you want volume one or two?" she asked, smiling at the other woman. She was about Hermione's own age, maybe slightly shorter, and had blond hair.

"I didn't realize that there was a second volume," she said, looking interested.

"It just came out in September," Hermione replied, turning to the shelves and running her finger along a line of books. She stopped at the name Longbottom and lifted out two good-sized tomes. "They're both really interesting reads. I went to school with him, you know," she added, pointing to Neville's name.

"Really? I've wanted to meet him ever since _Herbological Fungi and How it Grew_ came out. The way he explained the cross of the two kingdoms was really interesting."

"Oh, I know!" Hermione paused, wondering if she dared try and play matchmaker. "You know, he's not married, and I'm sure he'd love to discuss his works with you."

The other woman's face rose and fell. "Oh well," she said, looking rather sadly at a ring on her finger. "I see you've been snagged too," she added, noticing a ring on Hermione's finger as well.

"Oh," Hermione said, not entirely sure what to say. Luckily she was distracted by the rather sudden entry of Harry and Ron.

"Hey!" Harry said, stopping in front of them. The other woman's eyes flicked momentarily to the scar on his forehead. For a second a look of dawning comprehension came into her eyes, followed by a small grin. "You'll never guess who we just bumped into."

"Who?" Hermione asked, turning only slightly as to not make her customer feel excluded.

Ron answered. "Malfoy! He was shopping at Quality Quidditch Supplies."

"What did he say?" Hermione asked, feeling her cheeks turning red. The woman was looking almost a little too interested in the conversation than would have been normal.

"Not a whole lot. Asked what a submarine is. Any clue why?"

Hermione smirked. "I expect he's been listening to his Beatles record some more. You know the song, Yellow Submarine..."

Ron looked clueless, but Harry burst out laughing. "He listens to muggle music?"

"All the time, actually," the woman next to them spoke up, rather suddenly. Hermione frowned. How would she know that? "Let me guess," she said, looking at each of them in turn, "you're Hermione Granger, you're Harry Potter, and you must be Weasley. Sorry," she added, "he never told me your first name."

"Who--?"

"I'm Antoine Bellover, Draco's not entirely thrilled fiancée." Hermione's eyes widened. This was Antoine Bellover? She was so, so... Hadn't she just been trying to set her up with Neville? "And I just wanted to let you know, Hermione, that I'm rooting for you."

"You're what?" Hermione asked, hardly believing her ears.

"I'd much rather that you married him than me. It's so obvious that he's in love with you, it's a wonder he can still claim otherwise. Trust me, I only agreed because his father is downright scary. And besides, I'd much rather meet Professor Longbottom."

"That's what Malfoy said! He said that it's a bad idea to go against his father's wishes!" Ron said, gasping.

"But I'm sure it's mostly baloney. If he wants to marry you, the worst his father could do is take his precious money away," Antoine said, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure he'll figure it out on time, and even if he doesn't, I'll volunteer to suddenly lose my voice on the day of the ceremony... That is, if you want him?"

"I am still wearing my ring, aren't I?" Hermione asked, smiling softly.


	21. Valentine's Day

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 21- Valentine's Day

By Marmalade Fever

Disclaimer: The Princess Bride belongs to William Goldman, Rob Reiner, and several other wonderful, wonderful people who should know that I hold them in the highest regards.

February 14th fell on a Sunday. Hermione had decided to spend the day as she usually did, which entailed watching a romantic movie while eating junk food. This year she wasn't quite as mopey as usual, though. Since Antoine's confirmation that Draco was, indeed, in denial, Hermione had found herself extremely optimistic. She was near positive that this time next year she would be married. It was very nice to think about. And so, she was spending today as her last bachelorette Valentine's Day.

She had rented a few movies. The titles at the video store hadn't been in as bad of shape as they normally were. In fact, she had actually managed to get some good one's for once. She bent over the small stack in her living room, set aside An Affair to Remember for later, and grabbed at the next one. She popped it into her DVD player and watched happily as she was sucked into the country of Florin, watched sadly as Buttercup received news of her beloved's death, and smiled sweetly as Buttercup was rescued, and/or kidnapped, by the Man in Black.

"He was a farmboy-poor. With eyes like the sea after a storm..." Hermione sighed and stopped the movie. Draco had eyes like that... She wasn't sure why she had stopped the movie. She suddenly felt overcome with lonesomeness.

Marmalade had curled up in her lap. She had gotten bigger but was still fairly small. She scratched under her chin and she started to purr. She really did feel very lonely.

...

Draco had started the day off with a sudden urge to write. Why? How should he know! He had noticed the ink well and quill that Hermione had given him on his desk and just sort of felt compelled. He sat with quill poised over parchment for a good three minutes, waiting for inspiration.

"Chapter 1," he wrote. "I was born Draco Ludwig Malfoy to Lucius Christoph and Narcissa Alexandria Black Malfoy on November..." He pause and scratched it out, before starting again. "Chapter 1. My life can be divided into three basic areas. First there were my pre-Hogwarts days. Then there were my Hogwarts days. Lastly there's my post-Hogwarts days, of course." Draco wrinkled his nose with disgust and scratched that part out as well. "Chapter 1. Look, I don't know you, or in the very least, I probably don't know you. You may think you know me, but you're wrong. No one does. The life of a rich pureblood brat might, to some, be a rather accurate title for this. But no. I'm a complex human being with emotions! Can't you understand that? So what if I'm rich? Money can't buy me love." Draco stopped again. Had he seriously just quoted that muggle band? Sappy beginning anyway. He was just about to cross the whole thing out and start anew when he realized that his father's head was in his fireplace.

"Yes, Father?" Draco asked, shielding his parchment.

"You do realize that it's Valentine's Day, Draco?" his father asked, as if something were wrong.

"Yeah, so?"

"You haven't made any reservations!" his father barked.

"Oh bother," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Do I have to take her out?"

"Yes! It's very important to keep up appearances. It's highly unbelievable for a couple, separated for two years and about to be wed, to stay home on Valentine's Day! For pity's sake Draco!"

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

"I've gotten you a table at Basil Garden at seven o'clock tonight. You are to escort Antoine and at least try to look as if you were enjoying yourself. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir," Draco said, sighing. His father's head disappeared from view and Draco didn't resume his writing.

...

Grudgingly, Draco led Antoine into the restaurant that he had gone to to meet Hermione only a few months previously. The place was decorated with red roses and white lilacs. "Malfoy, party of two," Draco said dully to the host.

"This way sir," the man said and led them to a small table in the center of the room. It was very busy tonight, it seemed. At nearly every table sat a couple looking either awkward or else sappy.

"So," Antoine said, as they looked over their menus, "you must be feeling a bit depressed and lonesome right now."

Draco gave her a cold stare. "You'll be quiet if you know what's best for you."

"Oh yes... I nearly forgot our little charade." She raised her voice, "Oh Draco, darling, what fabulously straight teeth you have!"

Draco gave her a look of utmost exhaustion. If he'd been able to, he would have liked to strangle her with his bare hands. "Thank you," he replied in a forced voice. If memory served him correctly, weren't Hermione's parents dentists? He shoved the thought aside and looked with strained intent at the menu. "Well, I'm ready to order. If you are, I'll flag down that waitress..."

Antoine's attention, however, had drifted from her menu and across to a table on the other side of the room. She squinted and suddenly grasped his arm. "Do you know who that is?" she asked in a very excited voice.

Draco squinted and turned in his seat. At the table sat two figures. One was a man of his own age, stockily built, the other was an elderly woman with an odd hat. Something in his brain clicked. "Cor, it's Longbottom!" Then Draco looked to Antoine, who nearly seemed to be salivating.

"So you do know him! Oh please, please, introduce me to him, won't you?"

Draco snorted. He couldn't help himself. Just his luck! The girl his father had so graciously forced on him had an infatuation with Neville Longbottom! Wonderful, just wonderful... "How do you even know who he is?"

"Book jacket..." Antoine muttered, staring intently.

"Book? What book?"

"Herbology books! I read a couple of them before the accident. I never dreamed that I could actually meet him..."

"Longbottom has written books?" Draco murmured, thinking back to what he'd been writing that morning.

"Professor Longbottom," Antoine corrected.

"Professor!"

"Youngest one at Hogwarts... Although, I think he might just be a substitute. He's surefire for a replacement for when the current professor retires, though."

A young woman selling long-stemmed red roses approached their table. "Would the lady like a rose?" she asked.

Draco let out an indignant sniff. "No."

Antoine rolled her eyes as the woman walked away. "And if Hermione were here instead of me?"

"Oh come on! You've never even met her!"

Antoine rolled her eyes again. "Would you introduce me to him?" she repeated.

"If he's still here when we're finished eating."

"If you introduce me now, I'll fake a stomach ache and we can leave."

"Deal," Draco said. This place had one too many couples in it for his taste. He stood and walked with what he hoped was his usual pompous stride over to Longbottom's table and put on his best smirk. It took a moment for either occupant of the table to notice him. At last, Longbottom turned his head and practically jumped from his skin.

"M-M-Malfoy!" he stuttered, pointing a finger.

"Exactly," Draco replied, and stepped aside for Antoine to get a better view. To his great embarrassment, she clapped a hand to her mouth and squeaked.

"Professor Longbottom," she said, removing her hand and holding it out to shake hands. Longbottom gave Draco a nervous side-ways glance before shaking. "I can't tell you how much I've wanted to meet you!"

"You... have?" he asked, looking bewildered. Draco chose to pretend to be deeply interested in a painting on the wall.

"Oh, yes! I love your work! The way you described the growth of the African Crepe Vine was pure genius!"

"Why... thank you," Longbottom said, looking both frightened and amazed.

"And what's your name, deary?" Mrs. Longbottom asked, smiling at Antoine.

"I'm Antoine Bellover."

Longbottom's jaw dropped. "You're kidding! How's your research on the fruamcoluar coming?"

Antoine's face fell. "It's being back-burnered for a while."

"Oh! I know who you are! I read about you in the Prophet," Mrs. Longbottom said. "I'm glad to hear that the two of you are being reunited, but I still feel just awful about that Granger girl. Neville had such a huge crush on her as a boy."

Longbottom's face turned pink and he tried to hide it by taking a swig of water. "You're, er, marrying Malfoy then, are you?"

"Until further notice," Antoine said, looking at Longbottom in a way that made Draco want to vomit. Something in his memory had clicked. A long time ago he had heard that Longbottom had asked Hermione to the Yule Ball. It had turned out that she had turned him down to go with Viktor Krum. A feeling of intense dislike suddenly coursed through him. Jealousy, rage, the works. He tried telling himself that he was being silly. It was Antoine's crush that was bothering him, not... not Hermione. His desire to vomit was steadily increasing. He couldn't lie to himself any further. He couldn't stand the thought of another man with Hermione. He was snapped out of his reverie. "...I said, 'are you okay?'" It was Antoine. She placed her hand on his arm, and he threw it off.

"We're going!" he barked, and he led the way to the door.

End Notes:

(laughing) I love Antoine...


	22. Welcome to the World

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 22- Welcome to the World

By Marmalade Fever

Draco's arm moved faster than it ever had, including during his days as seeker. Words were spilling onto the page faster than he could blink. He'd spent the last few weeks doing very little but write. He'd gone through a full two-hundred feet of parchment already. His record was blasting away as he wrote line after line after line. He was only vaguely aware that it was now March and his wedding day was coming ever closer. In the few moments of thought that he allowed himself during breaks from his writing he only fringed the subject of Hermione. Truth be told, he was terrified. There were only two things in life that scared him. One was his father, the other was the possibility of rejection, and he was petrified to realize that he would have to face both if he were to ever be happy again. Rejection... rejection was a cryptic word that held everything in the balance. If he were to... to go back to Hermione and beg for her hand... and if she were to refuse... There would be no further solution. His father would be angrier than he had ever seen him. He would surely be excommunicated from the family. His fortune would be taken away. Rejection meant death by Malfoy Marriage Contract. And so Draco did not allow his mind to dwell on the mortifying subject. Instead he kept on writing, writing, and writing...

...

It was only two in the morning when Hermione's phone rang. She stumbled, half-aware of her surroundings, to her only telephone in her kitchen. "Hello?" she asked groggily, thinking murderous thoughts about telephone solicitors. She froze as she listened to the voice on the other end.

"Hermione! I can't find my car keys, and I've got to get Pen to the hospital!" It was Harry, and, by the sound of it, a very nerve-wracked Harry at that.

"Calm down! Is the baby coming?" she asked, searching for the light switch.

"Uh huh," confirmed the already jittery voice.

"I'll be right there; everything will be fine," Hermione said, doing her best to calm her poor friend. "These things can take hours." She heard the sound of retching on the other end. "Is she alright?" she asked, somewhat worriedly.

"That was me," Harry replied, sounding still nervous but also rather embarrassed.

"I'll be right there, just stay calm and make sure you have everything!" She clumsily hung up the phone and grabbed her own car keys. It wasn't often that she used her car, but she found it came in useful, especially when it came to her muggle neighbors and their suspicions. She drove for about twenty minutes before she reached Harry and Penelope's small house. She hastily got out of her car and knocked on the door. She was greeted by a chalk-white Harry.

"Come on, help me get her to the car!" he said, pulling her by the arm and leading her to the chair he had left his wife in. Penelope was breathing slowly and smiled at Hermione, looking ten times calmer than her husband.

"Okay," she said, lowering her voice so it was directed at her abdomen, "time to go to the hospital so that we can finally meet you!" Harry and Hermione both offered her an arm and helped her to her feet. They led her to the car and then Harry ran back for her suitcase and, for no apparent reason, his wand. The hospital was about fifteen minutes away.

"Remember to breath!" Harry coached from the backseat, making odd hand gestures that Hermione couldn't understand from her rear-view mirror.

"Calm down, Harry!" Penelope said, laughing in a bemused sort of voice. "It's no where near time, yet!" Hermione slowed at a stop light and sped up again as it turned green. Another block later and she slowed again, only to have the light turn green.

"That's odd," she muttered, as a third light turned from amber to green, completely bypassing red. "Wait a second... Harry! Stop that!"

"I'm sorry!" Harry said, nervously setting down his wand and writhing his seat belt with his hands.

"We're almost there anyway, and you don't want to cause a collision!" she scolded, turning, at last, into the hospital parking lot. She allowed Harry and Penelope to get out before parking and rushing in to join them.

"...One moment please," the receptionist said and she gestured for them to sit down. "You'll be escorted to your room, shortly." She said, smiling at them all.

"Well," Hermione said, feeling a sudden wave of sleepiness hit her, "is there anyone you want me to contact?"

"If you could let my parents and the Weasleys know," Penelope said, with a soft smile, "that would be great."

"Alright," Hermione said with a nod. What she really felt like doing was having a nice cup of coffee. First things first, though. Penelope's parents proved much easier to contact. This was because they had a phone and so did the hospital. The Weasleys on the other hand... Hermione ended up having to sneak into a janitor's closet in order to Disapparate, making her feel not unlike a super hero.

The Burrow was uncharacteristically quiet that night. Of the many children and grandchildren of Molly and Arthur Weasley, only Percy and his wife, the other Penelope, were visiting. The war had taken its toll on Percy's pride, but he had managed to thoroughly redeem himself with his parents by offering to visit often. Hermione knocked and was only slightly surprised when a bed-headed Percy answered the door.

"Penelope's having the baby," Hermione informed him.

"Wha-oh! That Penelope," he mumbled, and went off to wake his parents. Molly and Arthur came down the stairs wearing night robes and looking both exhausted and excited.

"Can I use your floo to contact Ron?" she asked.

"Certainly, dear, certainly!" Mrs. Weasley said, starting a batch of coffee brewing.

"Ron!" Hermione called, as she knelt her head through the flames.

"Mione?" asked a very groggy Ron.

"Harry and Penelope are in the hospital. She's having the baby."

Instantly her friend was alert. "Where? Mungo's?"

"Nope, a muggle hospital. Come over here. I'll get my car and we can all go together." Moments later Hermione was back in the janitor's closet and in the parking lot, leaving to fetch the Weasleys in the preferred mode of entering a muggle hospital. Luckily, the Burrow wasn't far. It was not just a little difficult to navigate herself to all of these places that she was so used to getting to by magic. Half an hour later she had somehow managed to fit Molly, Arthur, Percy, Penelope Weasley, and Ron, (his wife preferred to sleep,) into her car. Ginny and Dean had their own car and showed up as well.

"Any news?" they asked of Harry.

"Dunno. They just told me to stay here and leave them alone," he replied, looking ashen-faced.

"Is there anything we can do?" Hermione asked.

"Well... I was sort of thinking about calling the Dursleys..."

Ron blinked at Harry. "Seriously, mate?" he asked.

"Only family I have. Plus, Pen sort of made me promise..." He made a slight attempt to smile.

"I'll get right on it, Harry," Hermione said, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"Any excuse to wake them up at three AM!" Ron said, with a laugh. Hermione walked over to the payphones and began searching the phone books. She had Vernon and Petunia Dursley's number, from Harry, but didn't have a clue about Dudley. At last she found his number and decided to dial him first.

A disgruntled amount of swearing came to Hermione's ear so that she had to move the receiver away. The voice on the other end finally, exasperated, asked, "What?"

"Hi, you may not remember me. My name is Hermione Granger, and I'm a friend of your cousin, Harry." Hermione paused for a moment, wondering if Dudley had hung up the phone.

"What about him?"

"Well, his wife is in the Midtown Hospital. She's having a baby. He asked me to let you know." She waited for a moment and was about to hang up the phone when he spoke.

"I didn't know he was married."

"Well, he is. He has been for a few years now."

"You aren't the wife, are you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, no I'm not."

"Well, make sure he sends me a birth announcement." There was a click and a dial tone.

Hermione dialed the next number and listened to a very sharp "Hello"?

"Hello, Mr. Dursley. This is Hermione Granger, I'm a friend of your nephew."

"What do you want? I told him never to contact me again!"

"Well," Hermione paused, "he wanted to let you know that his wife, Penelope, is having a baby." There was a silence for a moment and then the voice of Petunia Dursley followed.

"What hospital?"

"Midtown, do you know it?"

"Yes, I'll be there in a little while."

"Really?" Hermione asked, unable to contain herself.

"Good-bye." Hermione hung up the phone and returned to the Weasleys and Harry.

"How'd it go?" Ron asked, looking curious.

"Surprisingly well. Dudley wants a birth announcement and your Aunt Petunia," she looked to Harry, "is coming."

Harry was shocked out of the stupor he had been in. "You're kidding!"

"That's what she said," Hermione replied, shrugging her shoulders. A few hours later and everyone had started nodding off.

"Hermione?" Ginny asked, looking to her friend after a long session of staring into space.

"Mmhmm?"

"Are you worried?"

"No, she'll be fine."

"I wasn't talking about Pen. I meant about your situation." She emphasized the word situation carefully.

"You mean Draco?" Ginny nodded. "A little, I guess."

"You're taking it extremely well. Aren't you frightened that... that he won't come back to you?"

"I try not to think about it. I've been imagining it in my mind the last few months. He's going to show up on my stoop with a handful of flowers... Or something like that. I know he isn't going to marry Antoine. She assured me of that. Although, I guess his father is perfectly capable of drugging them, and forcing them together. But can you honestly imagine even a father like Lucius Malfoy doing something like that?"

"I suppose not." Ginny glanced over her shoulder at the sound of footsteps. A graying woman with a long neck was approaching. "Wake up, Harry. Your aunt is here."

The woman paused a few steps away from the group, giving them all an extremely apprehensive glance. Quite suddenly she whipped around and started walking in the opposite direction. Harry had to jog to stop her. Ginny and Hermione watched from a distance as Harry actually gave his aunt a hug.

"Where's Mr. Potter?" a nurse asked, causing the two women to turn around in their seats.

"Over there," Ginny replied, pointing. The nurse walked briskly over to Harry and said something to him, and they could tell that he was smiling as he dragged his aunt along behind him.

"The baby's here!" he sang, approaching the group. His in-laws gave a start and jumped to their feet, leading the way after Harry and Petunia. They found Penelope Potter lying in bed looking exhausted. In her arms was a very tiny baby with a pink hat on.

"Everyone," she said, as they gathered around. "This is Lily Ithaca Potter."

Hermione felt as if she were melting. Harry had a daughter! At the back of her mind she imagined the day when she might be in this same position, a strong, pale hand on her shoulder. Suddenly she felt an overwhelming urge to cry.

"Ithaca?" Penelope Weasley said, smiling. "I was planning to name our first-born Telemachus!" Those who knew about the Odyssey laughed. Lily was then passed to her father, who beamed. Very slowly the baby made her way around the room, and Hermione held her for a moment, lost in thought.

End Notes:

I had to stop and giggle at my original author's note for this chapter, in which I said I had just gone on my first date. Considering my boyfriend and I have been together for over three years now, I find that really funny.


	23. Man and Wife

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 23-Man and Wife

By Marmalade Fever

It was beautiful outside. The trees were blooming and the grass was green. Draco hadn't noticed any of it. It was almost like being pulled out of bed and transported elsewhere when you were only half awake. He'd put on his tuxedo style dress robes and allowed them to do his hair. They had even put a small amount of make-up on him. And now... Now he was suddenly jolted awake by the realization that he was standing at the front of the extremely garish church, about to be wed. Cold sweat ran down the back of his neck and he could feel goose-bumps on his arms. Gregory Goyle was standing, troll-like, next to him. He felt another wave of goose-bumps run through him as the sound of the wedding march began. Slowly, but altogether too quickly for Draco, the bridesmaids walked down the aisle. Then the music changed and all attention was on the door in the back of the room.

Antoine had made the best of attempts to feign illness. She had complained of a stomach-ache, cast a silencing charm, taken poison, purposely broken her big toe... everything! But nonetheless, here she was, being forced to walk down that miserable aisle, after all.

Draco watched as Antoine approached and his ears suddenly went deaf to his surroundings. He could only barely understand the voice of the wizened old wizard performing the ceremony. Antoine was given away by her father, Andre.

"Should any present know of a reason that these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Draco's heart pumped as he looked around. Nothing was happening! Surely, someone must object! This was sheer lunacy! His eyes met those of his father, and suddenly he knew what he had to do. He saw his father jump to his feet in alarm before he Disapparated, with a pop, into the safest place he knew.

...

Hermione looked up from reading the daily prophet and didn't flinch as she realized who her visitor was.

Draco stood stalk-still, feeling every nerve in his body writhing at once. He opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue had decided to desert him. "Hermione," he finally managed to say.

"Yes?" she asked, setting aside her newspaper and maintaining a perfect calm.

Draco could feel his throat closing up, and, for the first time since he was very little, didn't care when the tears began sliding down his cheeks.

Hermione shifted suddenly in her seat. She had not expected him to cry! "What happened?" And then, in fear, she asked, "You aren't married, are you?"

Draco shook his head, before wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "I..." he began, slowly, "I'm sorry." Hermione nodded and waited for him to continue. Quite suddenly, the tears stopped, and he looked at her almost as if for the first time. "I love you." Then, before waiting for her reaction, he strove on. "I've been the biggest fool in the world! You're perfect. You're smart, kind, funny, not to mention drop-dead gorgeous..." He tilted his head. "I can hardly tell you how hard it is for me just to stand here rather than run up to you and kiss you like a madman."

"Well," Hermione said slowly, "why don't you?" Her heart was hammering.

"Would you... let me?" he asked, uncertainly.

"Why don't you come and find out?" Draco approached cautiously and kneeled down onto his knees and wrapped his arms around her, before kissing her with full force on her lips. He felt her run a hand through his hair before gently pushing him away. A small smile was on her lips.

And then the world came crashing down on Draco. His father... Darn him! He stood and began placing as many anti-apparation wards on the flat as possible. Then, just as suddenly, he stopped, and kneeled next to her side on one knee. He took up her hand and kissed it gently. "Marry me!"

"Of course!" Hermione said, gleefully.

"No, I meant now!" He watched her expression go through an obstacle course of emotions. "Hermione, you told me you loved me, and I rejected you. I'm now back, begging for your forgiveness. But the thing is... They can break us apart, and you know it. It's the only way. Either we wed today or else they come and take me back to Antoine and force me to marry her instead. There's no other way!" His voice softened. "I promise you, Hermione, that I will not treat you as a husband until the day that we wed a second time, in a church somewhere for all of your friends and family to see... and none of mine. I'll court you! I'll sleep on the couch! I'll get my book published! Just please, please... It's the only way."

Hermione gulped and nodded her head. "Just let me go and get dressed." Draco fell back in a slight swoon onto the floor as he waited, impatiently, for her to come back. After what felt like ages but was only about three or four minutes, she came back, wearing a simple pair of white robes and her hair tied up with a matching ribbon. "Where do we go?" she asked, as he steered her out the front door.

"I know of two places for a witch and wizard to elope. The first is the Ministry of Magic... That wouldn't be my first choice. The second is Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore could do it." He watched as a light came into her eyes. "Hogwarts it is, then." He took her hand and they double-Apparated to Hogsmeade.

Hogsmeade was sleepy this time on Sunday mornings. They arrived in a small clearing in front of the Shrieking Shack. Carefully, they climbed over a small fence and Draco took her hand in his once more. He loved her. Now that he had finally realized it, he couldn't imagine how he had managed to suppress the thought for this long. Her hand felt so small in his, so petite and delicate. She was delicate. They were risking a lot by doing this. He reminded himself, gradually, that she wasn't helpless. She could out-duel him any day, no doubt. They walked in silence for a long time, just two lovers taking comfort in one another's presence. They bypassed the main street and continued down a beaten road that led them directly toward their old school. Over the treetops they could make out a few students on broomsticks and what looked like a quaffle. Most of the grounds were fairly vacant. They walked past Hagrid's hut and the whomping willow. The giant squid rolled over in the lake and a few early risers looked up from their activities to marvel at the two strange adults wearing such odd attire. Finally, Draco held the door to the castle open for his bride and they entered, feeling safer than they had ever felt before.

They walked, unnoticed, for a while, up the stairs. "Where's a teacher when you need one?" Draco asked at last, breaking the silence.

"We could try the teacher's lounge." Hermione led the way, keeping a firm hold on his hand until they approached the proper door, and she knocked. They heard a slight rustle and the door opened, revealing Professor Snape, nose hooked down, as custom called for. He eyed them, slowly.

"Draco?" he asked, at long last. It suddenly struck as odd that Snape hadn't been invited to the wedding. Draco shrugged it off.

"Where's Professor Dumbledore?" he asked.

"He's in his office. Shall I inform him of your presence?" He raised an eyebrow, as if daring them to admit that they had come uninvited. Almost suddenly, his eyes struck upon Hermione and swiftly connected to their hands.

"If you would," Hermione replied, feeling a bit peeved by his examination of the situation.

"Of course." She couldn't be entirely certain, but it looked as if a small smirk had alighted on the sallow, old professor's face. Perhaps he felt even less remorse about disobeying Lucius Malfoy's wishes than they did.

"Who are you talking to, Severus?" The door to the teacher's lounge widened and Professor McGonagall's face appeared. It lighted up when she realized who they were and what exactly they were wearing.

"Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger wish to speak to Professor Dumbledore. If my presumption is correct, then we may as well come with them. We might be needed as... witnesses." The two professors swept through the door and led the way while the happy couple followed at a distance. The portraits on the walls watched them in silence as they came to the stone gargoyles and waited as Professor Snape pronounced the password, "cauldron cake." The row of stairs revealed themselves seamlessly and they climbed.

"Come in, come in," the cheery voice of Dumbledore called from within his office. They obliged and the party entered the oh-so familiar office. Dumbledore's chair made a three-sixty and he smiled up at them. "Ah! Draco, Hermione, so good to see you again!" He swept towards them and took their free hands in his. There was a twinkle in his eye as he asked, "What can I do for you, that is, if I haven't already guessed?"

"Would you..." Draco began, slowly, feeling suddenly a little foolish, "would you marry us?"

Dumbledore clapped his hands together. "Excellent! I would be honored. If you'll give me a moment, I just need to consult my reference books and make sure that I still remember how." He conjured up four squashy armchairs for them and went into an antechamber to find his books.

Draco and Hermione exchanged a small grin of both relief and embarrassment. Neither had ever given a thought to elopement before, never mind to one another. Draco let his arm wrap around her shoulders and Hermione rested her head on his as the minutes began to drag on. Professors McGonagall and Snape both preferred to avert their attention, though the occasional glance in their direction did happen. At long last, Dumbledore emerged, a book grasped in his left hand and raised over his head. "Here we are," he said, smiling. "If you would stand and get out your wands, we can start." Draco frowned slightly... wand? He did have his with him but couldn't remember any previous need for one in the ceremony. They did as they were told and Dumbledore began. "Should I skip the formalities?" he asked, looking up over his half-moon spectacles.

"Go ahead," Hermione replied, hand snugly inside of Draco's.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Do you, Draco Ludwig Malfoy, take Miss Hermione Christine Granger to be your lawfully and magically wedded wife? To have and to hold, through sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, as long as you both may live?"

"I do," Draco said, without hesitation. And a feeling of sudden release went through his chest.

"And do you, Hermione Christine Granger, take Mr. Draco Ludwig Malfoy to be your lawfully and magically wedded husband? To have and to hold, through sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, as long as you both may live?"

Hermione's voice choked with emotion as she responded, "I do." Hermione's eyes stayed on Dumbledore, despite her sudden impulse to look at her near-to-present husband.

"Do you have the rings?" Hermione slipped her engagement ring off of her finger and Draco removed his own, which he had nearly forgotten that he still wore. They were placed in the aged wizard's hand and he took up his wand. "Point your wand at the rings with me and repeat as I do, 'Man and wife, bind us now, Unum.'" A faint silver haze surrounded the rings and slowly dissipated. "Now place this ring upon the finger of your spouse." They did. "With the power invested within me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Draco felt teary-eyed as he bent his wife toward him and delivered the first kiss of their marriage. A magical surge passed through them, emanating from their rings.

"Now, if you'll wait just a moment longer, I'll draw up a marriage license for you and we can all sign it." He ducked behind his desk and began scribbling in pearly green ink. He then handed the quill to Professor Snape, who then offered it to Professor McGonagall, followed by Draco and Hermione Malfoy. Dumbledore then tapped the parchment with his wand, placing wards on it to prevent it from being destroyed.

"We'll be having a larger ceremony later on. You'll come, won't you?" Hermione asked, beaming at her aging professors. They nodded, and she noted a tear threatening to exit from Professor McGonagall's eye. Draco led his wife from the room and down the flight of stairs. It must have been lunch time. The Great Hall was as noisy as it ever was as they walked by it. "How about that!" Hermione said abruptly, stopping to peer through the door toward the staff table. Neville Longbottom had just sat down alongside Hagrid.

"Yes, apparently he's a substitute for Sprout," Draco replied, staring a little more scathingly at his old school-mate than was called for, considering his current situation.

"I wish I could get his attention!" Hermione whimpered, staring avidly at Neville.

"What for?"

"I thought we might be able to set up a double-date with him and Antoine." Draco's brow unfurrowed and he smiled.

"In that case... HO! NEVILLE!" Draco waved his hand and brought many pairs of eyes toward him, including the very frightened ones of the substitute professor. He cautiously stood and left his place at the table and approached, gripping something in his pocket very hard.

"Malfoy?" he asked, looking just as nervous as he had on Valentine's Day.

"Call me Draco!" Draco said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Uh..." Neville replied, looking more frightened than he would have if Draco were scowling rather than grinning.

"I believe you know my wife?" Draco asked, gesturing.

"Oh! Your..." Neville's eyes landed on Hermione and he jumped, clearly having expected someone else, namely Antoine. "But... I thought..."

Hermione smiled. "Good to see you, too, Neville." She stooped over and gave him a hug.

"Beg your pardon?" he said at last, blinking.

"We just eloped... Anyway, we were wondering if you'd like to join us for a double date, some time-"

"-with Antoine," Draco interrupted, realizing that Hermione didn't know that the two had already met. Which brought him to the very good question of how she had known that they would make a good couple. She'd never met Antoine, or had she?

"You two are... married?" Neville asked, looking close to fainting. "And Antoine..."

"Is as free as a bird," Draco responded.

"Sure," Neville said, finally. "Sure, that'd be... swell." They left Neville and went out of doors again.

"Hermione," Draco repeated, for what he could hardly believe was only the second time, "I love you."

"I love you, too, Draco." They walked together in silence to Hogsmeade before Disapparating to their flat.

End Notes:

Oh, the fluffiness...


	24. Confrontations

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 24-Confrontations

By Marmalade Fever

Author's Note: Please bear in mind that this is PG. lol

Draco and Hermione sat silently together at the kitchen table. They had spent the day together. They really hadn't done very much. They had made a trip to the small muggle grocery store in town earlier. Hermione had also insisted on taking him to buy clothes as well. He was going to go back to his house in the morning to get his things, but until then, he couldn't very well walk around wearing tuxedo style robes. He was now wearing a simple pair of khakis and a tee-shirt.

Hermione had made spaghetti for dinner. Neither of them had had much of an appetite; it had just been too strange of a day to eat. To her delight, though, Draco had offered quite willingly to do the dishes. She found it rather amusing really, to be married to Draco Malfoy and have him doing chores! A year ago she would have laughed out loud at the very suggestion.

At last, at around 9:30, Hermione broke the silence. "I'm going to go and brush my teeth."

Draco started and then nodded. He had purchased a toothbrush while they were out. "I'll come with you," he said, and stood. The bathroom was opposite Hermione's bedroom. He followed her in and watched as she took a bit of floss up and began cleaning her teeth. Draco followed suit.

"I don't remember the last time I brushed my teeth with someone else in the room," he commented, throwing the floss into the waste basket.

"It must have been at Hogwarts," Hermione said, nodding. "I remember that Parvati and Lavender always fought over my toothpaste. It didn't make much sense, really."

"Wizard toothpastes are a little gross in flavor," Draco said with a shrug. "You wouldn't want to use it either if you ever read the ingredients list. I can't tell you how many times I used to sabotage Crabbe's tube so that it made his teeth furry. One minor addition and Potions class actually made life fun."

"Interesting..." Hermione said, picking up her tube of Crest and dabbing a bit of paste onto her toothbrush. She handed it to Draco and he did the same. They brushed in silence for a while, before finishing up. "Well, I'll find you some blankets and a pillow," she said, patting her mouth dry. Draco nodded, sleeping on the couch had been part of his deal with her when he had suggested that they elope. The only reason they were married at the moment was for safety reasons. His father was less likely to break them apart this way, and Draco wasn't about to take advantage of the situation. He wanted to give Hermione the dream wedding that she had always imagined, and just because they were already married didn't mean that he couldn't give it to her. Other than legally, for all intents and purposes, they were, more or less, still just engaged.

Hermione had lighted a fire in her fireplace and made the couch as comfortable-looking as possible. Marmalade was curled up next to the pillow, looking as cute as a button. "I'll be right back to tuck you in," Hermione said, winking at Draco as she went into her bedroom. He kicked off his shoes and put on the pair of pajamas that they had bought today. The bottoms were dark gray and black plaid and the top was solid black. Hermione returned wearing her own pajamas, which were ivory today. "Good night," she said, looking a little shy as she placed a kiss on his forehead. Draco wasn't sure what made him do it but he pulled her down onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her.

"Good night," he said back, and kissed her nose. "Read me a bed time story?" he asked timidly. It was still pretty early.

"Alright," she said, and Draco reluctantly let her go to the bookshelf.

"This," she said, sitting back down on his lap, "is the story of Little Red Riding Hood. This is the same copy that my parents read to me when I was a little girl." She read the entire thing to him and closed the book. Draco was thoughtful.

"Hermione?" he asked, feeling more timid as his married life progressed.

"Yes?"

"I've been wondering, and maybe this isn't the best time to ask, but... do you want children?" Her face went a little pink and she nodded. "Me too," he said, smiling softly. "I wish I had mentioned that this morning. It seems like it would have been very romantic to tell you, 'I want to be the father of your children and I want you to be the mother of mine.' I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Hermione looked at him critically. "You've grown up a lot during the last few months."

"Maybe you should make that hours..." He said, smiling softly. "I barely even acknowledged this morning that today was April 1st. I nearly made the biggest mistake of my life. I wish..."

"What?" Hermione asked, begging him with her eyes to go on.

"I wish I never called you a mudblood. I wish I hadn't been a complete fool on Christmas. I wish I weren't afraid of my father. I wish I had said that I loved you back..."

"I know," Hermione said, simply.

"Did you ever think that if Antoine were still frozen in that tundra, we'd be on our honeymoon right now?" he asked, averting his gaze from hers.

"You were going to surprise me with the location... Where were we going to go?"

"Florence," Draco said, sadly.

"Italy? That sounds beautiful." They were silent for a while. "Good night, Draco," Hermione said, at last.

"Would you mind if I kissed you?" he asked, sheepishly.

"Go right ahead." He pulled her closer to him in his arms and set his mouth to hers. How he had missed these lips! These were the lips of his true love... his wife. Very reluctantly, Hermione pulled away and went off to her bedroom.

Draco drifted off into a light slumber. Marmalade curled up beside him and purred. His dreams were filled with thoughts of his future. No longer was he taunted by the presence of an enormous hourglass. He was safe now. He was... married. "So there you are, Draco," a silky voice said, interrupting Draco's dreaming and forcing him awake. He blinked, unsure of whether or not he had imagined the voice. Floating leisurely in the fireplace was the head of his father, looking grim.

"Father," Draco said, slowly, acknowledging the man's presence.

"I must say, I am disappointed in you," he replied, slowly and dangerously. "Do you know how much you have shamed me today?"

"I don't think your happiness is what is in question, Father," Draco replied, feeling rage and fear curling up inside him.

"Tell me, Draco, why did you leave?" It was a simple question, but felt so complicated.

"I left," Draco paused for effect, "because I realized something vitally important."

"And what would that be?" His father's eyes turned to slits.

"I love Hermione." Draco was surprised at his own daring. Admitting to his father, his _father_, that he loved someone, anyone, especially an unsuitable girl, was extremely treacherous.

"I see... and does she return your... _affection_?" Lucius asked, voice sounding nearly like a purr.

"Yes, Father, she does," Draco said, doing his best to keep calm and return the same Malfoy glare he had inherited from this man.

"And you are positive that this is the path for you? Life with a... muggleborn?" When the man said, "muggleborn," Draco knew that that was not what he implied.

"I have already made my choice." Draco was still as he waited for the certain wrath of his father to be inflicted, but the older man said nothing. "May I ask you a question, Father?" he asked, knowing this was a dangerous course, but hoping for a miracle.

"What?"

"Do you love Mother?" They had never discussed their feelings before, and part of Draco's heart ached for confirmation that his father was capable of such an emotion.

"...I know where you're going with this, Draco. It isn't the same."

"Why not?"

"Your Mother and I are of the same background, same breeding. It doesn't matter whether or not we love each other. We were meant to be together."

"...Do you love me?" Draco's heart hammered as he waited for a reply. He had never in his life dared ask before.

"Yes, Draco, I do." His voice was eerily smooth.

"I love you, too... Father," Draco said, carefully. "So I hope you can understand my decision... and even learn to accept it."

"You have not forgotten the Malfoy Marriage Contract, I assume?"

"No, Father, I haven't."

"Since you have obviously made your choice, I suppose you will be... wedding the girl?"

Draco's heart dropped suddenly into his stomach. ...Was there a possibility that his father was not quite as ready to corrupt his life as he had thought? "_Actually_..." He couldn't get any farther in his sentence and mutely held up his left hand, so that the ring sparkled in the firelight.

"You are already wed?" A sudden breathiness came to the man's voice.

"I'm sorry, Father. I didn't trust that you would allow us to marry if we waited."

"I see." For the first time in Draco's life, he felt as if he had truly hurt his father.

"Father... are you mad?"

"Honestly, I would have thought that I would be much more so than I am. You are my only son, Draco. You may do as you wish."

"So..." He wasn't sure how to ask. He had been so set on what he thought would happen, he wasn't sure what to say now. "Does this mean that you won't be disowning me?"

Lucius laughed mightily. "What? Did you think that I would send you packing? Take away your money? Draco! What would I do with it? You are overreacting!"

Draco was puzzled. "Honestly? No punishment? No excommunication? Nothing?"

"You are an adult, Draco. It pains me to say it, but the world is changing. I probably should not have forced Antoine on you. The entire ordeal has been very complicated. Goodness knows that if you are in love with this girl, the blame probably rests partially on myself. If I was prepared in November to accept her as my daughter, I can accept her now. So, yes, Draco. You may feel free to return with your wife to your own home. There is no need to add insult to injury by living in this dump muggles call a flat."

"Thank you, Father." For the second time in twenty-four hours, Draco felt pinpricks in his eyes. He was in danger of crying. "Good night."

"Good night, Draco." Without a sound, the man vanished from view. It was now three in the morning.

It was only about seven o'clock when Draco's slumber was again disturbed by a visitor. This time the person entered through the front door. It was Harry Potter.

"Malfoy..." he said, slowly, as he noticed the figure on the couch.

"Potter..." Draco replied, wishing he were slightly more awake.

"Here, catch up on your reading." Potter threw a copy of the Daily Prophet onto Draco's chest. On the front page was a large article about, well, him. The headline read, "Draco Malfoy Leaves Bride at Altar." He skimmed through it and set it aside. "Well?" Potter asked.

"Why don't I go wake up Hermione?" Draco said, slowly, feeling that her presence might help.

"No... I'll do it," Potter said, eyeing him.

"You know, I don't like the idea of you seeing her in bed, so I think I'll do it."

"That's funny, the feeling is mutual."

"We'll knock on her door, then."

"Fine." They both walked through the kitchen and down the hall to Hermione's door and knocked.

"What?" came the muffled reply.

"We have company," Draco called.

"We?" Potter asked, indignantly.

"Yes, we."

Hermione came to the door in her bathrobe and pushed past them into the kitchen. "Morning, Harry, Draco. Coffee?"

"I'll get it," Draco said. Potter's presence did something to him. He felt a need to stake his territory. It was going to be so good to actually tell the doofus that he had married his best friend!

"No, no, I'll get it." It was just as well, she actually knew how to use the coffee-maker.

"Hermione," Harry said, gently, "I brought a copy of the Daily Prophet with me. I think you should read it."

"Why don't you read it out loud?" she asked, as she filled the pot with water.

"Okay," Harry said, and he began. "'Draco Malfoy leaves bride at altar. In November, all were surprised to hear the announcement of Draco Malfoy's brash engagement to Miss Hermione Granger, a muggleborn witch, top of her class, close friend of Harry Potter, and very Anti-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Shortly after Christmas, we were even more surprised to find that the marriage was cancelled. Miss Antoine Bellover, a pureblooded witch named after her maternal grandfather, had been found. (Please see page 7 for our reprint of the article entailing her discovery.) Unbeknownst to the wizarding world, Malfoy and Bellover had been very much in love. In a regular bride swap, Malfoy switched from Bellover, to Granger, and then back to Bellover. It now seems that he is back to Granger once more. Yesterday, April 1st, Draco Malfoy left Miss Bellover at the altar. All present seemed extremely surprised. In an interview, Miss Bellover stated, "Glad that's over!" Although we're not entirely sure what she means by that, we do know that Mr. Malfoy is acting very oddly. He has not yet become available for comment.' Well?"

"Well, what?" Draco asked, smirking.

"Well, what's the situation?" Potter blurted.

"Harry," Hermione said tentatively, "Draco and I are in love."

"Really?" Harry squeaked, looking pale.

"Really," Hermione said with a nod.

"So you're back together?" he asked, then furrowed his eyebrows. "And you," he turned to Draco, "you still need to get married!"

Draco smirked. He really couldn't help it. "Actually, I don't."

"You... don't? Why? Was there some sort of clause that you found in the contract?"

Draco's mouth twisted into a smile. What was the best way to go about this? What was the best way to let Potter know that he was married to Hermione already? He glanced her way, as if asking for permission to play with his prey. Oddly, she was smirking his way, as if she felt an equal need to torture her friend a bit with the news. He snuggled next to her and kissed her. Potter, meanwhile, was staring at them as if they were crazy. "Should you tell him, or should I?" Draco asked at last.

"Go ahead," she replied, trying not to grin too broadly.

"Potter, I'd like to introduce you to Hermione."

"Excuse me? I think we've already met..."

"Let me rephrase that... Potter, this woman beside me is not Hermione Granger. She is Mrs. Hermione Malfoy." Slowly, comprehension crept onto Harry's face.

"When did you..."

"About half an hour after I left my other wedding yesterday."

"Dumbledore married us," Hermione added. She snuggled even closer to Draco.

"Hermione Malfoy," Harry mumbled to himself, sitting down in a chair. "Ron's going to have a cow."


	25. Day One

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 25-Day One

By Marmalade Fever

"Ron's going to have a cow," Harry said, rubbing his head.

"Yeah, probably," Hermione agreed, shrugging.

"And how's your father going to take this?" Harry asked, looking up at Draco.

"Uncharacteristically well, actually..." Draco said, frowning.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, looking at her husband in confusion.

"Well," Draco started, hoisting himself onto the kitchen counter, "he flooed this morning at about three. At first it was exactly the reaction that I had figured I would get, but then..."

"Then what?" Harry asked, tilting his head.

"Well, he actually started to sound... hurt. It was like he was upset that I didn't trust him enough to realize that he wasn't going to overreact and hex Hermione to kingdom come."

"That is odd..." Hermione said, frowning as well.

"And I asked him if he was going to take away my inheritance, and he said no! He actually said to feel free to take you back to my house, instead of staying here."

"Do you think you can trust him?" Harry asked.

"I'm afraid of what he'll do if I don't! He's a dangerous wizard, but with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named out of the picture..." Draco shrugged. He really didn't know. "My father has never acted this way in my lifetime. He..." Draco lowered his voice, "he actually admitted that he loves me." He shifted uncomfortably under Potter's gaze.

"Coffee's ready," Hermione said, setting the pot on the table and getting out mugs. "And I'd like to remind the two of you that I have work today."

"You're going to work the day after you got married?" Harry asked, smirking.

"Hey, I'll take time off for a honeymoon after the big wedding!" Hermione said, defiantly.

"Big wedding?" Harry suddenly looked relieved. "Thank goodness for that! No one would ever forgive you if you didn't."

"By the way, Potter, I don't suppose you'd know any good best men?" Draco asked, slowly. He still didn't like the guy, but it wasn't like he had anyone better in mind.

"I never thought you'd ask!" Harry said, with a look that made Draco want to strangle him a bit.

"Ron too?" Hermione asked, turning pleading eyes to Draco.

"Weasel, too."

Hermione smiled widely and gave Draco a hug. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Potter bristle over at the sight. He almost hated closing his eyes to kiss her, not wanting to miss the obviously disgruntled look on his ex-nemesis' face. But he did close his eyes and savored the happy feeling guaranteed until death do they part. "I love you," Hermione whispered.

"I love you more." Draco was lost in the sea of chocolate brown called Hermione's eyes. He wanted to swim and do laps in them. He shifted a stray curl off of her face with his thumb.

"Ahem!" Harry coughed. "I think I'll be going now."

"Bye," Hermione said absent-mindedly. She was busy staring into Draco's eyes. "Eyes like the sea after a storm." Yes, that was exactly what they were. She had taken for granted that they were gray, but now she noted a bit of green and blue around the iris. She sighed happily, barely listening as Harry let himself out. How could she have ever missed the dark black eyelashes that curtained these eyes? Absolutely heavenly...

"Did you want some breakfast before work?" Draco asked, forcing himself to remember that they had things to attend to. He whipped out his wand and performed a few simple spells, and in seconds there was bacon and eggs sizzling away on the stovetop. They ate heartily for a while, holding hands underneath the table. Hermione sighed, pushed back her plate, and looked at her watch. "Can I see you at lunchtime?" Draco asked.

"That'd be nice," Hermione said, smiling.

"And before you go, I need to ask you, do you want to move into my house?" Draco asked.

"Our house," Hermione correctly, lightly. "And yes, I'd love to."

"When?"

"Whenever you like. I need to set up a few things, first. You know, talk to my landlord, etc... but you can go ahead and start moving things over there."

"I'll tell you what. If you can take time to make those arrangements before you leave for work, I promise we'll be moved in by the time you get off tonight!"

"I feel so much more married now..." Hermione commented.

"Well, my dear," Draco said, picking up her hand and kissing it, "there's a reason for that."

"And what would that be?"

"Because you are!" He smirked and drew her closer and gave her one last kiss before she set to work talking to the landlord.

"He'll be over here at 8:30," Hermione informed Draco, as she hung up the phone. She hesitated. "You will be able to handle it?"

"Of course, darling, I'm not a complete moron when it comes to muggles."

"Alright, well, I'm going now."

"Bye-bye, little wife!" Draco said, wrapping his arms around her.

"Bye-bye, dear husband. I bid you adieu!" and she disappeared with a crack. Draco looked forlornly at the spot she had been standing in a moment before. He hoped that what he said was true, and that he wouldn't be a complete moron with the muggle landlord. When the man came, he was not just a little surprised to hear that Draco was actually his nice, young tenant's husband. They did manage to work things out and sign all of the necessary paperwork.

"When will you be moving?" the man asked as he was getting ready to leave.

"I was thinking today," Draco said, shrugging.

"Well, I hope you've got some friends to help you, 'cause the movers don't take kindly to last minute jobs like this."

"Oh, I'll figure something out," Draco replied, smiling inwardly. He happened to know quite a few good spells that would do wonders. For instance, he could perform a simple shrinking spell, use some floo powder, and simply tuck all of Hermione's possessions through her fire place in a box. He could be done in two hours, tops! (He hadn't been second in his class for nothing.)

"Well, good luck then, and congratulations on your marriage," the man said, he and left. By the time Draco's lunch date rolled around, he had already moved and retransfigured all of Hermione's possessions.

...

Hermione's work day ended at five o'clock, and she realized quite suddenly that it was Monday. She had kept up her tradition of Girls' Nights on Mondays with Ginny for several years running now, and her poor friend didn't even know that she was married! ...Or did she? This possibility was quickly shattered as both Ginny and Draco arrived to pick Hermione up at the same time.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Ginny asked, looking curiously at Draco.

"Um..." he replied. "Picking up Hermione?"

"I heard you skipped out of your wedding, yesterday," Ginny said, casually.

"Ginny!" Hermione said nervously but cheerfully none-the-less.

"Hey, Herms..." Ginny replied, looking a little hurt that she hadn't been informed of the situation yet.

"What are... you doing here?" Draco asked, feeling uncomfortable.

"Hermione and I were going to go to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor," she replied indignantly.

"Maybe Draco could tag along?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"I'll pay," Draco added.

"Can you afford to?" Ginny asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Oddly enough..." He didn't finish his sentence. Ginny, obviously, wasn't quite so quick to forgive him as Hermione had been.

"Well, don't just stand there lollygagging, come on!" She led them out the door with a bit of a huff and down the street a few shops. Draco and Hermione had to hustle to keep up. "One scoop chocolate cherry cordial," she said, ordering just as the other two had managed to get through the door.

Draco and Hermione had to stop and pant. "A scoop of lime sorbet," Hermione said, catching her breath.

"Butter brickle," Draco said, with a nod. Mr. Fortescue handed them their cones and they sat.

"Well, I'll say one thing about the two of you, you both have very boring tastes in ice cream!" Ginny said, not raising her eyes from her cone.

"Ginny," Hermione said gently, "I'm sorry I forgot about our plans..."

"You aren't the one I'm mad at!" Ginny said, too sharply. No one said anything. Under the table, Draco squeezed Hermione's hand. "I saw that!" Ginny said, still not looking up.

"Gin, we've got to tell you something," Hermione tried again. After Ginny still didn't answer, she pressed on. "Draco and I... are married."

Instantly, Ginny's head popped up. "You're WHAT?"

"We... eloped," Draco said, averting his gaze from the legendary temper of the Weasley girl.

"But don't get us wrong! We're going to have a ceremony!" Hermione said, in a rush.

"Good to hear you finally did something right!" Ginny said, lowering her ice cream cone and glaring a bit.

"Hermione's moving into my... I mean, our house," Draco said. "You can come with us to see it, if you want..."

"Alright..." Ginny said, slowly. They finished their ice creams and arrived, moments later, in front of the younger of the Malfoys' house. Ginny looked impressed as they went inside and toured the house. Hermione was paying close attention as well. This was her home now, and it wouldn't do to get lost, or fall down a trick stair.

"And that's about it," Draco said, summing up. He and Hermione were holding hands and Ginny gave them a sort of nod of acceptance.

"I'll be going now, then," she said. She walked up to Hermione and hugged her, whispering something in her ear that made her go pink. "Good-bye, Draco," Ginny said, holding out her hand to shake his. He willingly accepted and Ginny left.

End Notes:

Okay, I had to cringe when I reread about Draco wanting to swim laps in Hermione's eyes. That's a bit, um, too fluffy for me these days.


	26. The Wrath of Pansy

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 26-The Wrath of Pansy

By Marmalade Fever

Hermione couldn't find the bathroom. She had been tossing and turning in her enormous new bed for the last few hours, trying to get to sleep. Inevitably, not sleeping meant that her mind focused on other things, like a full bladder. So she had gotten up and left her bedroom, closing her door softly behind her, making sure not to wake Draco, who was asleep in the next bedroom. But now of course she couldn't find the bathroom anywhere! She had brushed her teeth in a sink in her bedroom. Somehow, in the darkness, everything Draco had said while giving her that tour had gone out the window. With the exception of the last few hours, she hadn't been here since Boxing Day, and it was now April... 3rd. Yes, it was April 3rd. It was early morning by now. Hermione wracked her brain trying to find the bathroom in which Draco had gelled her hair all those months before. She was quite certain that it was somewhere on the first floor.

Hermione made her way, almost blind, through the darkness. She had her wand lit but was still having difficulty navigating her way to the staircases. The place was huge! And this was only the baby version of the Malfoy Manor... How had Draco ever made his way around as a child? She had tried countless doors already and hadn't found anything close to resembling a loo. She had been just about ready to resign, find Draco's bedroom, and just ask, when she noticed a glimmer of light coming from underneath a door. Odd, Hermione thought, as she went to investigate.

"What are you doing up?" Hermione asked as she peeked her head into the room to find Draco intensely reading a note. This room, apparently, was an owlery, with a table and chairs to compose letters at.

The look of concentration broke on Draco's face as he smiled at her. "Pansy's threatening you, darling!" he said with a chuckle, he and threw the note at her.

Hermione picked it up and glanced at it. Big, loopy letters in purple ink, very Pansy.

_Draco, my love,_

_I've been paying the utmost attention to your... marital status... and have finally come up with a plan to get you out of your predicament. I know you left Bellover at the altar Sunday. I don't blame you. Intellectual types are sooo last year. And I know that leaves you with just the mudblood, which is doubly, if not quintuply, horrid. So I've come to a decision. I'm going to divorce Bradley! And if he refuses I still know a good poison or two that should do the trick. Well dear, what do you think? Meet me at your south tower at five AM. Okay? And don't tell anyone. If I have to resort to plan B... well, you know._

_Love with all my heart,_

_Pansy (soon to be Malfoy) Bludwurm_

_P.S. If the mudblood is still bothering you, I have some extra poison!_

"Is she for real?" Hermione asked, looking up and giving Draco a sympathetic look.

"Unfortunately, the Parkinsons have a long line of apothecaries in their family, so she probably does have plenty of poison at her expense."

"Quintuply isn't even a word," Hermione said, moaning. She yawned.

"Did I wake you?" Draco asked, realizing abruptly that they were having a conversation in the wee hours of the morning.

"No, I was trying to find the bathroom..." Hermione said. "Er, where is it, exactly?"

"Two doors down and on your left." Draco laughed as Hermione ran for the door. She returned two minutes later, looking more concerned about Pansy's letter and less preoccupied.

"So, how are you going to break the news to her?"

"Well, I was thinking I might send a house elf in my place, but that seemed a bit cruel."

"Oh, come on, she did threaten me with poison!"

"I meant to the elf." They exchanged glances and laughed. After a moment, Draco looked thoughtful. "We could leave her a note. You can help me write it, if you want." He smiled at her. She smiled back.

"Alright, but only if you let me gloat!" They sat down and Draco pulled up his ink well, which had already been sitting open on the table in front of them. Draco began to write first.

_Dear Mrs. Pansy Bludwurm,_

_Thank you for your concern; however, there is no need for you to leave your husband. First off, the Malfoy Marriage Contract does not discriminate between the divorced, married, and widowed, so you would not qualify under any circumstance. Secondly, even if circumstances were different, I would never wish to marry you. I'm unsure of how you remember our brief courtship, but you absolutely disgusted me. We kissed once, and I have vowed never to let that happen again. Third, and probably most importantly, I am currently married to the girl you so quaintly referred to as "the mudblood." Let me assure you, she is a much better kisser than you ever will be. Besides this, she is also intelligent, kind, beautiful, and has won my heart. If you ever threaten her again, do not be surprised if your life suddenly comes to a bitter end._

_Sincerely,_

_Mr. and Mrs. Draco and Hermione Malfoy_

_P.S. Hermione wishes to write something as well:_

_Dear Pansy,_

_Stop looking so surprised. Oh, and please offer my sincerest apologies to your husband that he will not be leaving you anytime soon._

_XOXO,_

_Hermione Malfoy_

Hermione finished writing, and Draco smirked. "I'll take this to the tower, why don't you go to bed?" he asked, looking at his watch. Hermione noticed for the first time that he was fully dressed.

"Were you planning on sleeping at all tonight?" she asked, knitting her brow. Draco thought for a moment as he recapped the inkwell.

"I wasn't tired. I figured I'd catch up on some more of my writing." He gestured to a Brobdingnagian sized roll of parchment that was sitting on the corner of the table.

Hermione's brow knit even tighter. "So when you said that you would get your book published, you actually meant a book!"

"Well, I was hoping to save it as a surprise..." Draco looked sheepish as a bit of pink tinged his cheeks.

"What's it about?" Hermione asked, reaching for it, but Draco stopped her.

"You'll see," he said, smiling gently. "And now, I think it's time for bed!" He rose to his feet and pulled her up as well. He tucked the letter to Pansy in his pocket and threw an owl treat to one of the birds in the room. He took her hand as they walked silently down the hall. Hermione tried her best to make a mental note of the layout of the floor. "Good night, sweetie," he said, enveloping her in a hug and then placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Good night," Hermione replied, yawning widely and slipping into her bedroom and then into her gigantic, plush bed.

Draco walked resolutely to the south tower and put the note to the ex-Parkinson girl under a loose stone. Her little obsession with him was unsettling. He hadn't even known that she was married until his birthday. His birthday party had been the first time he had seen her since graduating from Hogwarts. And the impression he had gotten from Bradley Bludwurm had been very creepy, to say the least. He was so thin! It was disgusting. And the way he had leered at Hermione like that... And those gold eyes of his... He definitely wasn't someone he would want to spend time with.

Those days at Hogwarts seemed so out of place now. It was hard to imagine that those memories actually belonged to him. He had been so mean to Hermione. But why? Because of some stupid prejudices that his father had instilled in him from the time he could open his eyes.

"Daddy," he had asked once, when he was with his parents in muggle London, "what's wrong with those people? Why're they dressed so weird?"

"They're muggles, son," his father had answered. "They don't know about magic. That makes them bad. So stick close to me and your mother."

His mother hadn't done any better. She and her Bridge Club ladies had always gossiped in their loud, mocking tones, talking about how ill-mannered and unfit muggleborns were. It was no wonder Draco had automatically assumed the worst about Hermione. Weasley, being pureblooded, but belonging to a family of muggle fanatics who couldn't afford a decent house-elf, had also gotten the short end of the stick. And then there was Potter. He had actually rather liked Potter when he first met him. He had offered him friendship, hadn't he? But if there was one thing his parents had stressed to him more than anything else, it was that the Dark Lord was to be obeyed, and Potter was most definitely not a believer of that philosophy. And so, Draco had upheld his parents' beliefs because he thought they were wise and would make him powerful. He was a Slytherin, after all.

And now, all these years later, he actually rather wished that he'd been a Hufflepuff. Well, maybe not a Hufflepuff... That was going too far. But Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, that would have set him off right. Imagine if he had spent those long seven years of his life in the same house as the woman he now called his wife! But the past is unchangeable. He couldn't do anything about it now. He was extremely lucky that he finally had seen the light. He loved Hermione with all his heart. He welcomed the thought of someday having half-blooded, bushy haired, extremely smart, very brave children! Was that so strange? For him, it certainly was.

Pansy Parkinson Bludwurm was still stuck in her old beliefs. There would never be anything Draco could do to draw her out of them. If he had to guess, he'd say that the Bludwurm family was probably even more into the dark arts than the Malfoys, and that was saying something.

It was now a quarter to four in the morning and Draco finally made his way back to his bedroom. He took a final peek into the room next to his to watch the rise and fall of his beloved's chest as she slept. He smiled softly and returned to his own bedroom, changed into his new pajamas, and dreamed of bushy-haired Malfoys.

End Notes:

(Marmalade mutters something about embarrassing, fluffy filler.)


	27. Courting Mrs Malfoy

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 27-Courting Mrs. Malfoy

By Marmalade Fever

Author's Note: Because you knew that I was going to name a chapter that sooner or later, right?

When Hermione contacted Antoine Bellover to ask her if she wanted to go on a double date with Neville, she was surprised by just how enthusiastic the other young woman was.

"He's dreamy, don't you think?" Antoine had asked, looking not just a little swept away.

"Have you met him?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrow. She and Antoine had met again by coincidence at Flourish and Blotts.

"Oh? Didn't Draco tell you? When he took me out for Valentine's Day, we ran into Professor Longbottom in the restaurant. I had to beg Draco to introduce me. Silly boy."

"Oh!" Hermione replied, things clearing up instantly. She had to admit, the news about Draco taking another woman out for Valentine's Day was just a little upsetting. However, he and Antoine didn't seem to have any interest in each other, romantically or otherwise. "Where'd you go for dinner?" she asked, not being able to help herself.

"That hoity-toity place, Basil Garden." Antoine wrinkled her nose.

"That so?" Hermione said, trying her best to push away the sad feeling that arose. Basil Garden had become a very special place to her. It was the site of her first date with Draco Malfoy, the man who was now her husband of two weeks. No matter how much she liked Antoine, she still couldn't keep her jealousy completely at bay. The woman, though she hadn't had a choice, had kept Draco from her for three months. But she fancied Neville, for goodness' sake! She had to badger herself to keep this in mind.

"Yep," Antoine replied. "He was there with his Grandmother. I can really admire a man that would take his grandmother out on Valentine's Day like that. It's so sweet."

Hermione only nodded, not even entirely aware if either of Draco's grandmothers were alive or not. Mentally she tried to figure out his lineage on his mother's side. Narcissa had been a Black and cousin to Sirius. So this meant that his grandfather was a brother of Sirius' father. So his grandmother was... No, she didn't have enough to go on. She would have to point out to Harry that she was now his second god-cousin in law...

"So when should we go?" Antoine asked, interrupting Hermione's bout of staring into space.

"Oh, um, it'll have to be a weekend. How about Sunday?" she asked, embarrassed that she had zoned out.

"I can't believe I'm going on a date with Professor Neville Longbottom!" Antoine cried with glee. Hermione resisted the urge to lift her brow and only smiled.

Two days later, Draco, Hermione, Neville, and Antoine, (a very unlikely group) met in front of an Italian restaurant in London. Neville was still having difficulty understanding the situation. In fact, he looked very near to vomiting for the entirety of the date.

"Hermione," he had whispered when he first arrived, "what in Merlin's name is going on?" He looked around. "Why are you married to Malfoy, and why is she," he gestured nervously toward Antoine, "drooling over me?" he asked.

Hermione burst out laughing. "I'm sorry, Neville," she said, when she finally managed to calm down. "And as to your questions... Well, it's a long story about Draco and I, and as for Antoine..." She shrugged. "You'll have to ask her."

"Darling," Draco interrupted, "the table's ready." Neville turned a little green as he followed the couple into the restaurant with Antoine walking beside him, sneaking glances from time to time. He sat rigidly at the table, looking back and forth between the brilliant girl who used to help him in potions, to the evil git who used to ridicule him, and to the near stranger who was obsessed with Herbology and, oddly, him.

"Ahem! Will someone _please_ explain?" he cried in out in exasperation after witnessing Hermione and Draco tickling one another.

Draco's expression turned sullen as he saw the exasperated look on Longbottom's face. "You know Longbottom," he said slowly, "I think I owe you an apology."

"You... what?" he asked, feeling more confused than ever. Antoine turned her attention to Draco.

"I've been a downright... let's see, what would be a good word...? Brat? Bully? Anyway, I've been horrid to you. And I'm sorry." And Draco truly felt it. He'd gone through a complete turnaround lately. Heck, he wouldn't mind if some of these former enemies suddenly became his "chums." He could use a friend or two. Goodness knew that he couldn't rely on Crabbe, Goyle, or Nott anymore. And Hermione, bless her, was not someone he could burp around.

"Did you just apologize to me?" Neville asked, looking scared.

"Professor?" Antoine interrupted.

"Er, call me Neville..."

"Okay... Neville," she said, rolling the L's, "how's your investigation on high density chlorophyll coming?"

Neville's face brightened up a bit. "Pretty well. You do know the chloro count of the Bagerian Snake Vine, don't you?"

"Point nine five grams per cubic centimeter!" Antoine replied, beaming.

"But the Octavian Quinglo is actually point nine seven!" Neville said excitedly. Hermione listened to the conversation, feeling for once as if she had been completely dozing in school and hadn't learned a thing. Draco was still trying to figure out how you could measure the density of chlorophyll...

"Really? That's amazing! Any more and it would be pure chlorophyll!"

"And the lowest content is the Siberian Albino Shade-seeker at point zero, zero, zero, three, seven." Antoine's jaw dropped in amazement.

"I could have sworn it would be something in the abletuse family!" she cried.

"You'd think so, but those glowing creatures down in the deep actually provide enough light to bring it up to point zero, zero, zero, six."

"Are you following any of this?" Draco whispered to Hermione, looking completely perplexed. "I always thought he was dumb!"

"Oh, no, Neville's brilliant. He just needs to be in his element. I read his books, but I have to say, I don't even know what the abletuse family looks like, never mind its chloro content."

"Well, that's good to know..." Draco spotted the waitress coming and took a quick glance at his menu.

"Hello!" the young woman said, approaching their table. "My name is Anna and I'll be serving you this evening. Can I start you out with anything to drink?"

"Water," Draco said automatically, knowing this would never fail him in a muggle restaurant.

"And for you, ma'am?" Anna asked, turning to Hermione. Antoine and Neville were in deep conversation about enflamed stems now.

"Root beer, please." Hermione glanced at the other couple. "They'll have water too."

"But what about kohlrabi?" Antoine asked in a strained voice.

"That's muggle! Doesn't count!"

"And I'd like the spaghetti please," Draco said, trying to drown out the other conversation.

"But it's definitely an enflamed stem!"

"And I'll have a personal size combination pizza," Hermione said, catching on to Draco's attempt to keep words like "muggle" from Anna's ears.

"Very good... and them?" Anna asked, staring a bit.

"Two house salads," Hermione said cheerfully.

"I'll be back with your orders shortly," Anna said, giving Antoine and Neville a final "you two are cookoo" stare before leaving.

"Phew!" Hermione muttered, sighing. "That was a close one." Draco looked over at her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, smiling pleasantly. Neville stopped his conversation with Antoine abruptly.

"Would you mind explaining now?" he asked, frowning.

Draco frowned as well. "You're from a pureblooded family, too, aren't you Longbottom?"

"Yeah," Neville said, crossing his arms.

"Well, in mine, they were so intent on continuing the bloodline, they made up a sort of binding contract that forces everyone to marry by the age of twenty-six." Neville frowned more profoundly. "Anyway, Hermione was the only one left who met the specifications, so I _had_ to marry her..."

"Humph!" Neville snorted.

"...At first, anyway."

"Wait, what d'ya mean, at first?"

"That's where I come into the picture," Antoine said, straightening in her chair.

"You?" Neville's brow twisted.

"Antoine met the specifications too, even better actually, since she's pureblooded," Hermione supplied.

Neville's frown retreated slightly. "Oh! The fruamcoluar expedition! So when she was found, you had a second candidate..."

"But by then, Hermione and I had managed to fall in love." Draco shrugged. "So I ended up leaving Antoine at the altar."

"You poor thing!" Neville said, staring at Antoine.

"Oh, I don't mind being single a _little bit_ longer," she said, color rising to her cheeks. Neville colored as well before taking a hasty sip of non-existent water, not even noticing that there wasn't a glass in his hand.

"So... So now the two of you are married. How... how about that?" Neville stuttered.

Hermione and Draco smiled and exchanged a quick kiss. "Exactly."

"Huh," Neville said, leaning back in his chair. "Does Ron know?" he asked curiously.

"Er, not yet..." Hermione said, looking embarrassed.

"Well, now's your chance. He's standing right over there," Neville said, pointing.

End Notes:

(Dodges tomatoes.) Sorry about the cliffie!


	28. The More the Less Merry

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 28-The More the Less Merry

By Marmalady

"Don't worry," Neville added, "he's only just turned around."

Hermione heaved a sigh of relief. Ron would absolutely _kill_ both of them if he saw them kiss. Hesitantly, she turned her head. Ron's eyes alighted on her, and he blinked, perhaps thinking he'd seen wrong. He shook his head slightly and moved forward, wife in tow. Eliza, who had been in Hufflepuff, not to mention a year ahead of them, waved cheerfully toward her. "Oh, hi... Ron," Hermione started nervously.

"Hermione..." Ron started, confusion evident on his face. "Who are you here with?" And suddenly it dawned on her that they were sitting at a square table. She was sitting equally near both Draco AND Neville. For all Ron knew, Draco and Antoine might be getting back together... that is, if he even knew that Draco had left Antoine at the altar. He rarely read the Prophet, not after the Rita Skeeter debacle.

Before Hermione could answer, however, Draco raised his hand in the air, his face grave. "She's with me." And before Hermione could tackle him, he turned his hand, his _left_ hand, around, revealing the glorious gold wedding band. Hermione's breath caught in her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable. She felt her own left hand being lifted off of her lap and examined. Cautiously, she opened her eyes. Ron was still holding her arm up, looking about ready to hyperventilate.

"You're... you're..." he couldn't get the words out.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Hermione gulped. She had been crying so much over the last few months, and tears seemed to be dangerously near the surface. But she couldn't, she _wouldn't_ let herself cry. That would mean admitting that part of her was ashamed to be married to Draco, and that would break his heart.

Eliza, Antoine, and Neville stayed still, as if all three had been hit by a Petrificus Totallus spell. The tension was broken as Anna approached their table with their waters. "Oh, will they be joining your party?" she asked, gesturing to Ron and Eliza. "A booth just opened up, or I could scoot another table over.

"I don't think..." Draco started.

"Sure!" Ron said loudly, drowning out Draco. "We'd love to join you."

"Ron!" Eliza hissed, touching his arm. Anna, not catching this, dragged another table over.

"They've already ordered, but I'll get you some menus and I'll make sure to have them hurry with your orders." Anna left and returned shortly with menus, then left again.

"...You're married?" Ron asked, looking close to fainting, if it were possible for him to faint over anything besides spiders.

"Well-" Hermione began, but suddenly she stopped, as she saw Neville go rigid. She could tell by the look in his eyes that someone was approaching their table, someone he was terrified of.

"Well, well, well... If it isn't the happy couple." That was a voice Hermione knew only too well.

Draco turned in his seat. "Oh, hi, Pansy," he drawled. His voice sent shivers down Hermione's back. It had been so long since she had heard him speak with his drawl like that. It brought back ugly memories of cursing and name-calling. She had to remind herself who exactly he was talking to.

"Oh, hello, Pansy," Hermione said sweetly, as she turned in her seat. She froze when she noticed that her husband was with her.

Ron's eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of his head. "_She_ knew before _I_ did?" he asked, looking revolted.

"Two more?" Anna asked, suddenly appearing from the kitchen with two additional waters. "I guess I'll have to move you to that booth after all!" She laughed lightly, before stopping abruptly. She had just noticed just _how_ thin and scary looking Bradley Bludwurm was.

"No!" Hermione almost shrieked, in reply to Anna's question. "No, no... they'll be much happier at their own table."

"Oh, don't be silly! We'd love to join you!" Pansy was wearing a pair of cotton candy pink robes, apparently not having even bothered to pretend to be a muggle. The robes were such a contrast compared to Bradley's choice of black, red, and skulls that it was hard to believe they could be married. "And Gr-Hermione! I want to sit _right next to you_." This part she said through a very fake smile, resulting in the words being spaced apart unnaturally. Hermione shivered.

Draco stood suddenly, looking large, powerful, and overbearing. "Look here, Pansy! For the last time, STAY AWAY FROM MY WIFE!" By now the entire restaurant was looking at them. Draco grabbed the back of their collars and forced them through the door, practically throwing them into the street. He turned around, eyes still ablaze with emotion, breathing forcefully.

"Well done, son!" Draco's knees nearly buckled as Lucius Malfoy suddenly appeared behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Merlin's Uncle Alfred!" Draco cried. "Isn't this a MUGGLE restaurant!"

Hermione clutched at her chest, feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of her. What were the chances? REALLY? "I'm going to faint!" she whimpered softly.

"Me too," Neville agreed, eyes popping. He had never forgotten the Department of Mysteries incident.

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were standing behind Draco, elegantly dressed in only the finest muggle attire.

"Mum... Dad..." Draco said, slowly, looking somewhat fearful. His last conversation with his father had been so out-of-character that he felt sure that something must be wrong.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy!" Antoine, said cheerfully. She was the only one who seemed unscathed by the appearance of all of these surprise guests.

"Oh, hello, darling!" Narcissa said, in a somewhat sincere voice. "We did so hope you'd be joining our family." She glared a bit at Hermione.

Anna looked hesitantly at the new arrivals. "Would...?" she began, tentatively, but Ron cut her off.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Hermione?" he asked, staring between the four Malfoys. Anna sneeked away to the kitchen and another waitress returned in her stead, handing Hermione her long-awaited root beer.

"My name is Linda and I'll be your server this evening. Now, who needs to order still?" the new girl asked. Everyone rolled their eyes in her direction and Ron and Eliza raised their hands.

"We'll be joining them as well," Lucius informed the girl, who took a small double-take at his hair.

"Just to let you know, there is an automatic eighteen percent tip added to parties of eight or more."

"That's quite alright." Linda dragged a third table over, handing the elder Malfoys their menus, and left for the kitchen.

Neville and Ron had gone painfully off-color, and the fact that they were sharing a table with all of the Malfoys didn't help at all. Linda returned to take their drink order.

"It's so... nice to bump into you like this," Lucius drawled, looking carefully at all of the occupants of the table. He glanced at his menu. "I think I'll have the gnocchi," he said, as if he weren't unaccustomed to the company.

Draco looked down at his empty plate. The silence was immense.

"That was quite a display, throwing out the Bludwurms like that," Lucius added, conversationally. "Very... emotional." No one said anything. "I'd had my worries that you had grown weak," he hissed. "But then again, perhaps you have." His voice was low and it became apparent that Draco was shaking, his fists curled into white balls of flesh with knuckles.

"Will you drop this charade of yours already?" Draco said, nearly under his breath.

"What was that? I didn't quite catch it." Lucius took a sip from his glass of water, examining it first to make sure that it was clean.

"I said," Draco repeated, raising his voice, "will you DROP YOUR CHARADE already?"

"Charade?" Lucius looked curiously toward Narcissa, as if asking her if she understood. "What charade?"

"THIS ONE! You are not nice. You are not understanding. You do not allow me to marry a... excuse me, darling... MUDBLOOD!" Draco was shaking violently. Ron gaped opened mouthed at him.

"Perhaps we can talk about this later? Somewhere a little more private?" Lucius asked, face never faltering at all.

Draco stood and slammed his fist into the table. "FINE! Come along, Hermione, we're going to go have a little chat with your seemingly righteous new in-laws!" He grabbed her hand and stalked out of the restaurant.

End Notes:

Gnocchi...


	29. Just a Pleasant Little Chat

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 29-Just a Pleasant Chat

By Marmalade Fever

Draco dragged Hermione by the hand down the crowded muggle sidewalk. His parents were walking at a fair pace just a little behind him.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked cautiously. Draco was not in a mood to be trifled with.

"Manor," he answered shortly. He slowed down, momentarily, as they came to a cross walk, look both ways, and pulled her across.

"Draco, don't you think you're being a little... presumptuous?" his mother asked, tripping over her stylish muggle stilettos, which Hermione found to be completely garish. Draco didn't answer but pressed on.

"Calm yourself, Narcissa, he's only a boy, after all," Lucius drawled, keeping up much better in his loafers.

"Only a boy," Draco muttered, quoting his father as if he were asking for confirmation of the statement from the stars above them. Only a boy... He hadn't been a boy since the minute he found out he'd be getting wed instead of getting a birthday present, back in his father's study. Only a boy, his foot. They were acting too suspiciously. If they thought he was overreacting, he knew them better than they did. No, no, no... there was something fishy asunder and he was going to find out what it was!

Hermione didn't really know what to think. She was truly terrified of Lucius Malfoy... her father-in-law, of all people! She hoped and prayed that whatever was going on would turn out in her favor. And what could he really do to them, anyway? Murder her, kidnap Antoine, and alter _everyone_ else's memories?

Draco looked about and spotted what he'd been looking for. He gave a small cry of glee and pulled Hermione into the Leaky Cauldron, his parents entering just after.

Narcissa was truly winded. One of her long heels had broken off and there was sweat running down the side of her face. Lucius, though panting somewhat, remained calm and collected as he waved to Tom, the bartender.

"Smile," he said, through a fake one of his own. "Just a big, happy family..."

Draco rolled his eyes in frustration. "Save it, will you! We're just here to Disapparate." Draco bared his teeth to an onlooker before taking Hermione's hand and Disapparating to Malfoy Manor. Two seconds later, his parents appeared beside them with a sound like popcorn.

Hermione was almost surprised when she realized that she had just successfully Apparated to Malfoy Manor. She was truly a Malfoy now. The idea washed over her like warm water, leaving her shivering afterward. But Draco lost no time dwelling on such matters and began to vent his pent up rage as soon as he had the safety of privacy. Hermione's jaw dropped in shock as she heard him curse very loudly and for several seconds on end.

"DRACO!" his mother scolded, looking absolutely appalled. "I did not raise you to use such foul language, and against your parents, nonetheless! Shame on you!"

Draco panted, nostrils flaring like an enraged bull. "WELL?" he finally said, looking at his father, pointedly.

"Well what?" Lucius Malfoy asked, fairly calmly.

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF ALL THIS?" Draco asked, speaking as if he were talking to someone very young and very deaf.

The elder Malfoy sighed. "I suppose there's no use in formalities if you're going to behave like this. What exactly is it that's troubling you, Draco? What can I do to offer you some peace of mind?"

"Peace of mind..." Draco repeated, finally seeming to have lost his adrenaline rush and sinking onto the steps. Hermione took it as a cue to sit down beside him, placing a hand on his knee for comfort. The elder Malfoys conjured up chairs and sat as well. Silence ensued and Hermione began to think that they would be there all night before Draco finally raised his head, turning it to his father. "I just... I just can't believe you. It truly pains me to admit it. I want to believe... more so than anything, really, but I can't. You are not that sort of man, Father. You do not care about my feelings. Any coddling was left to Mother, and believe me, that wasn't much. If it were up to you, I would have gone to Durmstrang and become the next overlord. Oh, you'd have loved that...

"I know you too well, Father. You're up to something, or at least you have some sort of agenda. You aren't allowing this marriage to thrive just because you think that I'm a grown up and deserve to make my own choices. You said I was only a boy just minutes ago. So... enlighten me, Father." Draco crossed his arms in a display of extreme maturity.

Lucius paused before answering, seemingly trying to find words. "I'm afraid, Draco, that I do have a very small hidden agenda, as you called it... However, it is not as grave a matter as you seem to think. I'm surprised, really, that neither of you have managed to figure it out yet. You're both so smart!" He glanced toward Hermione, who blanched, slightly. "You're really making a mountain out of a molehill, you know. Tell me, Draco, how exactly do you expect me to be reacting?"

Draco considered the question carefully. "I think," he began, "that by now you would have forced this marriage to an end by one mean or another. You would have forced me to marry Antoine. And as punishment, I would have thought that you would have taken away my inheritance, crucio-ed me, banished me... ANYTHING."

Lucius surveyed his son, coolly. "And what, praytell, would the media think?" Suddenly, both Draco and Hermione were hit with a wave of understanding. OF COURSE! Lucius Malfoy would most certainly have been blamed if Hermione had winded up dead in an alley somewhere, especially after the very public displays that had gone through the news to explain the entire ordeal. And there were sure to be plenty of people who questioned what was really going on. If Draco and Antoine were to suddenly marry even after he had left her at the altar, there would be many skeptics. More than likely, there had been more than one witch or wizard to have already put two and two together and realized that Hermione wasn't pureblooded and Antoine was. It all made sense now.

"Besides," Lucius continued, after giving them time to react, "if I am correct in guessing, I believe Dumbledore may have married you with not only law but magic as well. Your rings are still giving off a faint aura of magic."

Hermione, for the first time in many, many years, didn't feel quite as up-to-date with what someone was talking about concerning magic. Married by magic... married by magic... What had she read about being married by magic? There had been a case in Professor Binns class about a couple who had been married despite their loved ones wishes, and possibly they had been married by magic, but... then they had been murdered by goblins? Try as she might, she couldn't remember what was so special about it...

Draco, on the other hand, snapped his fingers and smiled. "Of course! I should have known..." He glanced over to Hermione and grinned. "You know what this means?"

"Er, no, actually," she said, feeling deeply embarrassed. She hated being left out of the loop. It was one reason why she read and studied so much.

"A couple who are married by magic can only be split by either death or an extreme mutual hate. No one else can intervene, unless they want to do a bit of murdering!" Draco smirked again and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "And I take it that because of the media, there's no way you could even think about doing that, dear parents."

"Exactly," Lucius said, shrugging his shoulders. "You might even say I'm getting lazy. So you can thank the media, Miss Granger, I mean... whatever I should call you... that you are currently alive, well, and living in comfort."

Hermione smiled. They were safe! They were really and truly safe! Thank the heavens for Dumbledore and gossipers everywhere! Hermione couldn't resist the temptation and stood, leaned over, and gave Lucius Malfoy a hug. "Thank you!" She felt Draco yank her back to him, looking just a little bit frightened by her actions.

"Er, that's, that's... don't do that again, Hermione," he said, looking panicked.

"Yes... It would be better if you didn't," Lucius said, frowning at her in a semi-disgusted way.

Narcissa stood. "Now that that's settled, I hope you'll still be having a _traditional_ wedding?" She glared at Hermione a little bit.

"Yes, Mother, we will," Draco said, smiling sweetly at his mother. "Soon, too." He paused, "However, if you wish to merit an invitation, there are a few... conditions that you'll need to abide by."

Lucius' eyebrow arched. "Such as?" he asked.

"My parents will be coming, and my friends, so..." Hermione said, leaving them to fill in the rest.

"Ah," Lucius said, smirking, "I see."

"Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione continued, turning to Narcissa, "I was wondering if I might be able to wear your dress?"

Narcissa sniffed. "Perhaps."


	30. Oh Sweet! Marry Me

Courting Miss Granger-Chapter 30-Oh Sweet! Marry Me

By Marmalade Fever

Hermione shivered. Despite the fact that this wasn't her true wedding day, being married already and all, she was still desperately nervous. Cold feet? Of course not! But butterflies were still dancing the rumba in her stomach. Ginny and Luna had left her alone for a few minutes to take care of some last minute details elsewhere. She was now dressed in Narcissa's elegant bridal gown, occasionally blasting at her armpits with her wand, using an anti-perspirant spell that seemed to have an amazingly short life. Her hair had been done up properly. Her once unruly mass of frizz had been tamed so that most of it was in an elaborate knot, with a few locks hanging freely. To her subtle amazement, she also found herself wearing a sort of tiara. It was silver but was made to resemble a twisted vine with tiny buds and leaves. With the silky white veil hanging off the back, she had never felt so pretty in her entire life. She couldn't help but smile as she imagined the look on Draco's face when she would make her entrance...

"Hermione," Ginny said gently, returning with Luna used-to-be-Lovegood-Appleby, "the procession is about to start." Hermione felt herself nod and rise from her chair. She followed behind them and watched as Ginny, dressed in periwinkle, took Harry's arm and started down the aisle. Luna and Ron followed with Antoine and Neville bringing up the rear. A rush of bile filled her throat as the music altered to announce her presence. Bouquet in hand, she took her father's arm and numbly began to walk down the aisle.

Draco was frozen in his spot, feeling a rush of déjà vu. Here he was, in the Malfoy Manor, awaiting the approach of the love of his life. The start of the wedding march brought him out of his stupor as he watched Potter and Ginny Thomas march up the aisle at his own wedding. Not one of his former friends had come. In fact, the groom's side of the hall was nearly empty. His parents were sitting in the front row, his father looking murderous and his mother crying her eyes out. A number of Hogwarts professors took up a few of his rows, as it was now summer and school was out. Potter and Ginny took their places and a second head of flaming red hair appeared, accompanied by that really weird girl that had been in the class below. Looney, he recollected. Weasel and Looney also took their respective places at the front. Next came the girl that he was only too thankful to not call his bride, Antoine. She was arm in arm with Longbottom... pardon, _Professor_ Longbottom.

And the wind caught in Draco's throat as the song changed and the most ethereal creature he had ever laid eyes upon entered the room. Hermione... Hermione... his lovely, precious, know-it-all, muggle-born Hermione! If he could have, he'd have swept her off of her feet right then. Oh, yes, she was perfect. He was positive that every ear in the room would be able to hear the sound of his heart, beating a strong tattoo against his chest. If any did, they were too absorbed in this glorious creature to notice.

At last, Hermione and Draco were left together in front of the elderly minister. "Marriage," he started, looking firmly over his spectacles, "marriage is what brings us together today. Marriage, that blessed arrangement-that dream within a dream, that is why we are here. Draco and Hermione have come to us from two very different backgrounds, now planning to join them as one. Draco has asked that I might read a short poem that he wrote for the occasion." The minister reached into his breast pocket and removed a piece of parchment. "Ode to an Angel-to Hermione, my love, my only. In the twilight of the darkness, flee, and marry Sweet-oh Sweet! marry me. Come to me and be my wife, and we shall battle through our strife. Though names and curses hold us back, I pray, my Love, rid thee of that. To none give the pleasure of your sorrow, and we shall carry out the morrow. Together one, and one we be, so marry Sweet-oh Sweet! marry me!" The poem ended and there was a trickle of applause throughout the room. Draco's heart ached. He had written that poem shortly after Valentine's Day. He took a nervous glance toward Hermione and saw that there were tears in her eyes. Oh, how he loved her...

"Who here gives this woman away?" the minister asked as the applause died. Ted Granger stood up from his place at the front row and raised his hand.

"I do," he said, looking lovingly into his daughter's eyes.

"Thank you, you may sit down. If any present can find reason that this couple should not be wed, speak now, or forever hold your peace." For a few tense moments, Draco and Hermione looked around, wondering if anyone would speak... but the moment ended, and the minister continued. "Draco and Hermione have each written their own vows. Hermione has asked to begin."

The focus left the minister and landed on Hermione. For a moment she felt herself choke, but then she looked into Draco's eyes and relaxed considerably. "Draco, I have known you since I was eleven years old. I can't say I especially liked you at first... though that might have to be the understatement of the century. Truth be told, until quite recently, I hated you. I loathed you... I would have been quite willing to go to your funeral just to cheer. For that I'm sorry. The last half a year has been quite difficult. At first, when I learned of your... pursuit of me, I didn't know what to think. The rest of my life, quite literally, flashed before my eyes. I didn't know what to do. But somehow, Draco, you managed to make it better. You..." Hermione's voice cracked, "you made an effort. You really, and truly, made an effort! It didn't matter that my options were limited and that you really didn't need to... Darn it, Draco! You actually wanted to ensure a happy marriage... a loving marriage." Hermione wiped a tear from her eye. "I love you, Draco Ludwig Malfoy. I know now that I always will. I promise you that I will remain faithfully by your side, forever and anon."

A tumultuous applause swept the room. Some of the doubters who hadn't been entirely sure of the coupling were looking confused. The crowd died down as Draco began his own speech.

"Hermione, my love, I can't tell you how sorry I am for how I treated you over the years. I was a horrid, spoiled brat. You should never have to apologize to me for anything. Apologizing is _my_ job. Thinking back over these past few months, I can hardly believe how much I've changed just because of you. On my birthday, I thought I had a pretty good life. Things were going well... I was rich... I could be as lazy as I wanted... I thought I was going to get a present. Little did I know that present was the best thing that ever happened in my life. I really, and truly, thought at the time that I was going to die. I figured that you would reject me before I'd even gotten my entire explanation out. I thought I was going to be _poor_. But now I'm the richest man in the world. I have you. Hermione Christine Granger Malfoy, I love you. I will forever be your loving husband. Thank you."

Another round of applause exploded and Draco shivered. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the utterly disturbed and repulsed look in his father's eyes. Hermione's parents, on the other hand, were looking very pleased... very pleased and just a little confused... but still, very pleased.

"May I have the rings?" the minister asked. Harry handed them over and the man continued. "Place this ring on the other's finger and repeat after me: With this ring, I thee wed. I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Draco had been waiting for this moment ever since he'd learned that he was going to be marrying Hermione Granger, even before he'd decided that he liked her in the least. He lifted her veil, flitted his eyes in the direction of Potter and the Weasel, scooped her into his arms, tilted her over his knee, and kissed her passionately. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed. It didn't feel like the moment would ever end. As he'd hoped, once he ended the kiss, both Potter and Weasley were looking _extremely_ uncomfortable. Ha ha ha... He held Hermione in his arms a while longer before he could let go. The applause that had shaken the room during the kiss slowly died and people began to come forward to congratulate the young couple. Tears of pure joy shone in Hermione's eyes as they slowly stepped through the room.

The End.

End Notes:

Actually, there's an epilogue. Actually, there are two epilogues. And a sequel. It takes quite awhile to end, really.

And, yes, that was a Princess Bride quote. I am obsessed.


	31. Epilogue Part 1

Courting Miss Granger-Epilogue Part 1

By Marmalade Fever

Draco hustled to find the floo powder. They needed to leave, and soon. Darn it! Where was it? "When was the last time you saw it?" he called from his perch next to the large cabinet beside the fireplace.

"I told you! It's in the porcelain cookie jar that your mother gave you for Christmas last year. It's in by the _kitchen_ fireplace." Hermione's head appeared from the doorway to the next room. "I meant to refill the snuff box next trip to Diagon Alley."

"Well, I'm glad you have a head. I think I left mine in the shower," Draco said, not bothering to try and make sense. "Come on, we've got to _go_!" He hurried her along to the kitchen where he offered her the flowery cookie jar.

"Hogwarts!" Hermione cried, ducking into the fireplace. Draco followed a moment later. Hermione helped him to his feet as he landed behind her in one of the visitors' fireplaces on the first floor.

"Thank you," he said, as he stood up and brushed himself off.

"Isn't it great to be back?" Hermione asked as she gazed around her. They hadn't come back since their wedding day, over two years before.

"Of course!" Draco replied, grinning at her as he took her hand and led her toward the Great Hall, where the sound of voices was already echoing. He squeezed his wife's hand. She had so been looking forward to this, and the anticipation had been mounting in her for weeks. "Just promise me you'll be careful, all right? First sign of trouble, you tell me."

"Stop being such a worry-wart. We've got a full month and a half, haven't we?" Hermione asked, patting her stomach good-naturedly.

"Yes, but Healer Andowin said..."

"Just forget about Healer Andowin. The odds are greatly in our favor, Draco."

"Whatever you say, Dear." Draco paused and held the door open for her. She stepped inside.

"Hermione!" someone shrieked, as Draco was just stepping through the door.

"It's good to see you, too, Parv," Hermione said, greeting her old roommate.

"And Great Scott! You managed to drag Malfoy along with you!"

"What, did you think I'd miss all the fun?" Draco asked, joining them. Parvati was dressed in turquoise robes and had her hair back with a couple of decorative sticks.

"I still can't believe you two are together. ...And look at you!" Parvati made a cooing sound as she bent over to inspect Hermione's bulging stomach. "Boy or girl?"

"We aren't telling anyone," Draco said, as he watched the twenty-seven-year-old make odd faces at his wife's abdomen. She looked up.

"Whyever not?"

"It'll make a good conversation piece at the next reunion," Hermione said, stifling her laughter with her hand.

"Oh, come on! Seriously. Boy or girl?" Parvati asked, looking dejected.

"We still aren't telling!"

"What's going on over here?" Parvati backed away so that Ron and Eliza Weasley could join the group.

"They won't tell me the gender!" Parvati said, pouting and giving the Malfoys a sideways look.

"But you said it was a-" Ron began, before Hermione stepped on his foot. "Ouch! What was that for?" he asked, hopping up and down.

"You nearly blabbed!" Hermione said, crossing her arms.

"Well, what's the point keeping it a secret, anyway?"

"The point is, Weasley, that we prefer to keep things private. It'll come out when it comes out," Draco said, smirking.

"You two are so weird together," Parvati commented, looking them over skeptically before she spotted someone else over by the punch bowl. "Oh! I've wanted to talk to Mandy for ages! Excuse me."

"So, what's the real reason you aren't saying?" Ron asked, eying them.

"Well," Hermione said, looking left and right, "there actually isn't a reason. We're just sick and tired of everyone asking."

Ron snorted. "Hey, look! There's Ginny and Dean!" He waved them over.

"Actually, I think I'm going to go say hi to Crabbe and Goyle. See you in a bit?" Draco asked, pecking Hermione's cheek.

"Go ahead, we'll meet up," she replied as Draco turned to leave. He headed toward his old "friends" who were standing like trolls beside the refreshment table.

"I dunno, Vince, I prefer the orange colored ones," Goyle said, popping a small tart into his mouth.

"But those are pumpkin. The green is better."

"Green's good, but how about the red ones?"

"Red tastes like strawberry. Too cheerful."

"So why do you like the green?"

"Dunno. They remind me of something."

"I know what you mean. What's that flavor?"

"Green... Green... What's green?"

"Grass?"

"Yes, I s'pose that grass is green, but..."

"Yeah. Grass is too much like clover."

"When'd you eat clover?"

"I saw my daughter's pet puffskein eating some once."

"Don't those eat...?"

"Naw. This one's a vegetarian."

"I dunno, do boogies count as meat?"

"Er, hello guys," Draco said, finally managing to enter their conversation, wishing he could've stopped it a second earlier. "And I think you're trying to remember lime."

"Malfoy!" Crabbe and Goyle said simultaneously, looking down at him from their great height. They both straightened themselves and turned subservient. "What can we get you?" asked Crabbe.

"Tart?" asked Goyle, looking somewhat frightened.

"Er, that's okay, guys," Draco said, feeling out of place all of a sudden.

"You... sure?" asked Crabbe, giving Goyle a nervous look. "There's tons more food, if you want some."

"I could get you a firewhiskey!" Goyle offered, hopping as he came up with the idea.

"No, really, I don't need anything," Draco said, wondering if they could manage to relax.

"Oh, okay," Crabbe said, looking thoroughly confused.

"So, how's..." Draco's mind suddenly blanked as he tried to remember their wives' names, "Hildegarde and... Millie?"

"Millie? Who's Millie?" Goyle asked, scratching his nose.

"Millicent? Your wife?" Draco asked, not sure whether he either had the wrong name or Goyle was having one of his episodes.

"My wife's name is Angora, like a rabbit," Goyle said, scratching his nose a bit more.

"Oh! Right." There was silence. "So neither of you married Millie Bulstrode?"

"I thought she died."

"In Amsterdam."

"Cauldron explosion."

"Lots of blood and guts!"

"I heard her skin..."

"That's, that's good, Crabbe, Goyle. I guess it slipped my mind. So, er, how's Hildegarde and Angora?"

"Fine," they answered in unison.

"And the kids?"

"Fine," they said, again. There was more silence. "How's...?"

"Hermione's good. She's over with her friends."

"Granger?" Crabbe wrinkled his nose. "What happened to the girl with the weird name?"

"Well," Draco looked around, trying to spot Antoine, "there she is! She's with Neville."

"Longbottom? Since when do you call him by his name?"

"Since..." Draco began but couldn't bring himself to carry on the conversation. He'd forgotten how many head-aches he'd suffered from talking to these two. "Er, never mind. I'll explain later. I'm just going to go talk with some other people. See you." Draco steered himself in the other direction. His brain hurt terribly already.

"Then I said, that's two weeks of detention to you, Mr. Flint, for the cheek! It felt so good, you wouldn't believe..." Neville paused in his story as he saw Draco Malfoy walking over.

"Hey there," Draco said, greeting them. Antoine smiled and gave him a pat on the back.

"Hi, Draco! I think Hermione's been looking for you. Harry wanted to say hi," she said, smiling. She and Neville had gotten engaged only a few months previously.

"Well, I'd better go then. See you," he said, excusing himself.

"Wasn't that Malfoy?" asked Lisa Smith, frowning.

"Yep, that was Malfoy alright."

Draco found Hermione talking animatedly to Harry, Penelope, and Lavender. Lavender blushed deeply as he stepped into their circle. "Hey," he said, giving Hermione a peck on the cheek. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Oh, that was me," Harry said, raising his hand. "But please, don't kiss me."

"Potter, never say something like that again," Draco said, frowning.

"Fine, you can kiss me!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Was there anything of importance you wanted to discuss?"

"Importance? Not really. I just wanted to see how you were treating my best friend, is all."

"Like a queen, I assure you."

"Very well, you are dismissed," he said.

Draco rolled his eyes again. He still couldn't quite manage to like Potter. He made too many stupid jokes.

"So," Lavender interjected, "you're having a baby?"

"That's right," Hermione said, smiling.

"Boy or girl?" Lavender asked.

"Not this again," Draco muttered under his breath. "We aren't saying."

"Why not?" Lavender asked, looking cross.

"But isn't it--?" Harry began, before Hermione stepped on his foot.

Draco sighed. Perhaps it was time to just make an announcement so that everyone could stop asking. "We're tired of telling; you'll know when you know."

"Wait! Give me a second." Lavender closed her eyes. "It's a... girl," she said, in a hushed voice.

"You will name her Lavender," Seamus Finnegan added, using the same hushed voice. He had sneaked up behind them as Lavender had gone into her "trance." Lavender opened her eyes and stepped on his foot... hard.

"Well, was I right?" she asked.

"We aren't telling, Lav. It's as simple as that," Hermione said, shaking her head in frustration. Harry snickered.

"Ooh! I bet I'm right!" Lavender said, reveling in her glory.

"Attention, attention!" All eyes turned to the front where MacGonagall was standing on a chair. "Welcome to your ten year reunion! Congratulations to all of you. I'm sure that you are all in good health. Professor Dumbledore would like to speak now." She stepped aside and Dumbledore took her place.

"Welcome, everyone! Let me ensure you all that you were by far the best class to have graduated from Hogwarts ten years ago." There was a murmur of confusion. "But enough of that! We are here to celebrate and reunite you all. We will be holding a raffle in a moment, but first I would like to make a few announcements. Your votes have come in, that is, those of you who filled in our questionnaire," he looked pointedly at a few individuals, "and the results are as follows. Most successful: Zacharias Smith!" There was scattered applause. "Best improved hairstyle: Harry Potter." Harry looked confused but managed a smile. "Largest family: Hannah and Ernie Macmillan. Most likely to not show up: Theodore Nott, who, coincidentally, isn't here! Most surprising coupling: Draco and Hermione Malfoy." The few people who had managed to not hear the news looked over at Draco and Hermione in awe, but they were too distracted to notice.

"Draco," Hermione said, slowly, "it's time!"


	32. Epilogue Part 2

Courting Miss Granger-Epilogue, Part 2

By Marmalade Fever

"Most unexpected career," Dumbledore continued, not noticing the panicked expression on Draco's face, "Neville Longbottom..."

"Now?" Draco asked, face getting paler.

"It'll take a few hours, but yes!" Hermione replied, clasping her hands around her stomach and starting to waddle through the crowd.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, stopping her with a hand on her arm.

"Back to the fireplace. Duh!" Hermione answered, turning to waddle a little further.

"You can't floo in your condition! It's dangerous! You heard the stories from Healer Andowin!" Draco was truly panicking now.

"Well, do you have any better ideas?" Hermione asked, looking livid.

Draco held his head in his hands before moving them into a time-out position. "STOP!" he yelled.

"Worst breath--" Dumbledore began, before turning to Draco. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy? Is there a problem?" he asked, ever coolly.

"Hermione's in labor!" All heads swiveled in their direction. "Is Madame Pomfrey in the hospital wing?"

Dumbledore removed his glasses from his nose and polished them. "I'm afraid she is not. Poppy is currently in Bora Bora with her sister. However... Is there anyone here qualified to deliver a baby?" The crowd was motionless. Rather ashamedly, one hand went up. It was the hand of... Professor Snape.

"Ah!" Hermione cried, then cried again as she was hit by a contraction. Eyes squeezed shut, she made a gesture of defeat. Snape didn't look too thrilled about it either.

"What about Healer Andowin?" Draco asked, looking jumpy.

"I'll find her!" Ron offered, looking equally frightened at the prospect of Hermione's baby being delivered by _Snape_.

"Godspeed, Ron!" Harry shouted, as Ron ran for the fireplaces.

"Come along... Mrs. Malfoy," Snape said, looking very disturbed. He led Hermione and Draco to the empty hospital wing. (Classes had been let out the week before for summer.) "I know a very good potion for just such an emergency. We'll have _it_ out of you, momentarily.The potion should also help with any complications due to premature birth." Hermione whimpered. Draco tried to comfort her by patting her hand. He helped her into one of the beds in the hospital wing. "And furthermore, allow me to offer my sincerest disappointment. I would have thought that the two of you would have known better than to go out in this... condition." Draco and Hermione both scowled.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Anything I can get?" Draco asked, looking warily between his wife and the greasy potions master.

"Do you have any sort of... bag... or something... at home?" Snaped asked warily.

"Yes, I'll go get it!" Draco said, heading to the door.

"Get the books!" Hermione screamed after him.

"Send someone in here to gather my ingredients!" Snape yelled as Draco exited the room. Snape slowly turned back to Hermione, and they frowned at one another. Hermione began to weep, openly.

Draco ran along the corridor to the Great Hall. "Somebody needs to get Snape's things! I'm going to go home and get some other things! Move it!" he cried, tearing through the crowd as if the ground were on fire. He skidded to a halt in front of the large guest fireplace and threw a handful of floo powder into the flames. "Malfoy Manor number two!"

Draco came hurtling out of his kitchen fireplace and didn't stop to orient himself. He stumbled out the door and into the hallway and sprinted to the coat closet. He threw the door open and madly began pushing past the coats to the corner where he had left their baby emergency bag. He ran it back to the kitchen, stowed it on the counter, and ran upstairs to the library. "Books, books! Which books!" Draco mumbled incoherently as he gazed wildly around the room. There was his small collection of books that he had gotten published recently, including his mildly famous, _Rich Pratt No-longer, an Autobiography of Draco Malfoy_, and, _Ode to a Bewitching Witch, a Collection of Poetry, by Draco Malfoy_. That wasn't what he was looking for, though. Books... Books... Which books did she mean? He mentally kicked himself as he remembered the pregnancy books he and Hermione had been working on memorizing for the last seven months. He ran back to their master bedroom and retrieved the large stack of tomes from their nightstands and carried them precariously down the stairs. He ran into the kitchen and literally threw them into the fireplace. He cursed, then hastily threw some floo powder in and grabbed his bag. "Hogwarts!"

The books were... a little singed. Not _so_ bad. At least the bag was all right. He had just stepped out of the fireplace when Weasley appeared just behind him... alone.

"Where's Healer Andowin?" Draco asked, shaking the Weasel by the shoulders.

"She's... She's in Bora Bora! _Apparently_, she's Madame Pomfrey's sister!"

Draco felt like crying with frustration. "Wonderful, just wonderful! Come on, help me carry this stuff."

"Fine. Say, what happened to these books?" Weasley asked, turning one over and patting down a small, burning portion.

"Nothing!" Draco hastily took the book away from him and headed to the hospital wing. He slid into the room and tried to catch his breath.

"One last push... there." Draco's eyes widened and he dropped the things. He slid over to where Snape had drawn the curtain around Hermione's bed and stuck his head in. There was Snape, with his back to him, and there was Hermione, a bit... bloody, and there was... an umbilical cord? He pushed himself so he could see what Snape was holding, just in time to see the Professor holding something very small upside down and slapping it. Instantly there were cries. He was a father... He was a father! Yahooza! He was a dad!

"There you are," Snape said, turning to face him. "It appears you have... a son." With trembling hands, Draco used his wand to sever the umbilical cord.

"How... how did you deliver it so quickly?" he asked, astounded.

"I am an expert potions master, Mr. Malfoy, and never forget it." A glimmer of a smirk alighted on the man's mouth. "Now take him; my job is finished!" He handed the minute infant to Draco and left, swearing to use a very good cleaning charm on his hands.

"I'm a father..." Draco muttered, eyes still wide.

"Let me see!" Hermione cried, now fully covered up with a sheet. Draco turned to her and set the babe into her arms.

"Scourgify," he muttered, gently cleaning his son off as his wife held him sweetly.

"He's beautiful..." she uttered, looking into the tiny, closed eyes.

"Yes... he is," Draco agreed, kneeling on the floor. The baby, though very wrinkly still, had a pointed chin, pale skin, and small tufts of curly, dark blond hair.

"I love him. I love him with all my heart."

"I do, too. And just think, we only have twenty-five years to convince him that girls don't have cooties." They were silent for a moment, then there was a knock at the door. Harry, Ron, Penelope, Eliza, Dumbledore, and McGonagall entered.

Hermione, hesitantly, looked up. "This," she said, in a hushed voice, "is Evander Gwydion Malfoy. Evander means 'the good man' and Gwydion means 'bright one.'" They all looked in adoration at the tiny child who would be loved so much.

...Eleven Years Later...

Evander stood at the entryway to Hogwarts, peeking out across the open lawn. There she was, with her glorious black hair swung haphazardly over her shoulder. His brown eyes watched her with keen adoration. He took a deep breath and headed toward her.

"H-Hi, Lily!" he said nervously, smiling at her as she turned around.

"Oh, hey, Ev! What's up?" she asked, her green eyes sparkling

"Oh, not much. The, the sky, I guess." He looked up, as if for inspiration. She tried to hide a smirk and looked up as well. "Nice clouds," Evander muttered, instantly regretting it.

"Yeah... they're cumulus." Lily smiled at him. Evander smiled back, but then he frowned. There was something funny, way up in the clouds. It was growing larger, and larger.

"WATCH OUT!" he yelled, pushing Lily to the ground. She screamed as a large ball of light and electricity came hurtling toward them...

"Wh-where am I?" Evander asked, opening his eyes and staring around. He recognized the place. He was, most definitely, in Malfoy Manor, his grandparents' home. But it was darker, somehow. There wasn't any light coming through the windows. He scrambled to his feet as he heard footsteps echoing through the hall and he hid behind a suit of armor. He peeped out as he saw a man approaching with long blond hair in a pony-tail. "Dad?" Evander asked, leaving his hiding place.

The man whipped around, and Evander found a wand under his nose. "WHO ARE YOU? Where did you come from?" he asked. His face was set in a grimace.

"Dad, it's me!" but even as he said it, he knew that something wasn't right. Although this man looked like the Draco Malfoy he knew, he was not. Something wasn't right. Something was _definitely not right_.

Dun dun dun...

End Notes:

And that, my dears, is the end of Courting Miss Granger. Sold (the completed sequel that goes in a very, very different direction) is already posted, and you will either be more confused or slightly less confused than I am sure you are at this moment. If you aren't confused... um, then I'll be confused for you.

Thank you for joining me for the ride. This was my first DMHG. Reviews, as always, very much appreciated.


End file.
